I have a memory of Jacob in every one of these items of clothing. I absolutely love it and so does he!
Check out her page on Facebook. Bunting & Bows. Fab stuff.
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Monday, 19 November 2012
Baby memories!
Also, wanted to share with you this gorgeous quilt made by the very talented Beth at Bunting & Bows. It's made of around 20 of Jacob's first baby gro's and T- shirts that I didn't have the space to store or were stained at the front (I'm unlikely to use a stained baby gro on a new bambino) as Beth uses the material at the back (but will sew on any logos/pictures from the front.
I have a memory of Jacob in every one of these items of clothing. I absolutely love it and so does he!
Check out her page on Facebook. Bunting & Bows. Fab stuff.
I have a memory of Jacob in every one of these items of clothing. I absolutely love it and so does he!
Check out her page on Facebook. Bunting & Bows. Fab stuff.
Exhausted.
Jacob is teething, I have a horrendous cough, we are temporarily sharing a room due to a rental issue. So he wakes me up, I cough and wake him up, then he wakes me etc etc.....
After having a child, sleep becomes this mystic, hazy distant memory. Constantly chasing it, dreaming about it (ironically) trying to get more of it and trying to survive on less of it. But god I miss it!
I've tried Controlled Crying. I don't have the willpower to continue. It simply doesn't feel natural to ignore your child who is crying for you, so in i go all rocking and soothing for hours on end. I have done it on a few occasions but can't do it long enough for it to actually "work" long term.
He also comes into our bed if we're having difficulty resettling him in the middle of the night. I then spend the rest of the night being kicked in the back and punched in the nose (he's a squirmer)
The only positive and lovely thing about being this shattered constantly is the beaming smile I get on the morning's that Jacob wakes up next to me, he strokes my face and gives me a big kiss. That usually follows by him being a complete monster for the rest of the day but hey you gotta cherish the good times and just get on with the bad.
The positives this week are; he's saying the word 'banana' a lot. He's clapping, dancing, and running. Eating lots of fruit and veg and not spitting out his food as much.
After having a child, sleep becomes this mystic, hazy distant memory. Constantly chasing it, dreaming about it (ironically) trying to get more of it and trying to survive on less of it. But god I miss it!
I've tried Controlled Crying. I don't have the willpower to continue. It simply doesn't feel natural to ignore your child who is crying for you, so in i go all rocking and soothing for hours on end. I have done it on a few occasions but can't do it long enough for it to actually "work" long term.
He also comes into our bed if we're having difficulty resettling him in the middle of the night. I then spend the rest of the night being kicked in the back and punched in the nose (he's a squirmer)
The only positive and lovely thing about being this shattered constantly is the beaming smile I get on the morning's that Jacob wakes up next to me, he strokes my face and gives me a big kiss. That usually follows by him being a complete monster for the rest of the day but hey you gotta cherish the good times and just get on with the bad.
The positives this week are; he's saying the word 'banana' a lot. He's clapping, dancing, and running. Eating lots of fruit and veg and not spitting out his food as much.
Thursday, 8 November 2012
Pilly.
This one is dedicated to my Gorgeous, warm, charismatic, eccentric, talented, kind, beautiful Godmother, Pauline Margaret Ruspoli Tankerville Chamberlayne Cowell. AKA Pilly.
Has anyone ever met somebody who completely changes their life. I did. Pily came into my life when I was around 7 years old. She lived in a massive Victorian house right next to my school, a class mates Mum introduced my Mum to Pilly, and that was that. My twin sister Anita and I declared from that moment that Pilly was our fairy godmother, and she really was.
With a mass of flowing long red hair and huge Lennon style glasses, with clear porcelain skin and rosy red cheeks, always accompanied by a light brown lippie, she sure was an exotic creature. She was a photographer and always had her Camera on a round her shoulders ready to snap something or someone.
Pilly was born in Paris in 1937. Her parents Tanks and Phemie were living there, as soon as Pilly was born they fled to Ireland as the Nazi's had started to invade France. They led a very bohemian lifestyle in Ireland and rented a flat in the left wing of a very grand castle called Tullynally in Castlepollard near Mullingar. I spent many every Summer holiday and some winters in this castle as a young teenager, even having my first Tequila experience with the son's of Thomas Pakenham who owned the Castle (Anita had her first ever bout of alcohol poisoning - Ahhh the good old days) We also used to stay in Pilly's Auntie Maggie's cottage in Scotland during half term. A picturesque little cottage with ghosts and pear trees.
As a young adult Pilly moved to London where she sold her fabulous home made pottery at Arts and Craft fairs whilst doing photography on the side. Here in London is where Pilly met her husband, documentary maker Adrian Cowell. They fell in love and married and soon after had a baby daughter called Boojie. Adrian was away a lot as he made documentaries in Brazil and America, mainly based on the hidden tribes of Brazil. Pilly often joined him to take photographs and on one expedition to the jungle, in an area called Xingu, Pilly conceived a beautiful son whom she called...Xingu (beat that Brooklyn Beckham)
So with Boojie and Xingu in tow, Adrian and Pilly bought this beautiful big house in Tufnell Park, right next to Tufnell Park Primary School, and where I was to spend so many happy days.
Tragedy struck for Pilly when Xingu was killed in a canoeing accident during professional competition in Austria. He was only eighteen. Pilly was distraught and said it was the love and support of friends around her that saved her life.
She continued to do Pottery and live half the time in London and half the time in the castle in Ireland with me and Anita staying with her as often as we could. She had this fabulous array of beautiful and glamorous friends with funny names and titles, lords and ladies, nieces and nephews and cousins. Everyone who Pilly knew seemed rosy cheeked and jolly and slightly mad! Including Micky, Pilly's brother who has a farm in Ireland, whom I absolutely adore. Eccentric all night dinner parties were something my sister and I became quite used to! At one of them you had the head of Channel 4 having a full blown debate with Toothless Joe the builder from down the road. Life at Pilly's was never dull. She always had an abundance of Dogs and Cats, at one stage having 8 dogs; Bibo, Axel, Rosie, Rags, Bobby, Pepsi, Pingu and Scruffy. Not to mention all the others along the years Paddywack, Paddy, Cally... Too many to remember!!
She always had a roaring fire place, beautiful food on the go in the Aga in her large jungle like kitchen due to all the plants, and she always, always had lashings of vodka and tonic!! Someone commented at Pilly's funeral that he's never been to a house where so many unannounced guests popped in during the day, and they were all welcomed with a drink, a bowl of spaghetti and a wise old chat (peppered with filthy jokes and a very cheeky sense of humour) round the fire place.
She was quite simply one a kind, she drove round London in a battered Morris Minor with dogs in the back and a camera in her pocket, a long silk scarf round her neck blowing in the wind. And that is how I will always remember her.
The woman who let me and Anita live with her aged 16 because we could not live with our mother who was battling alcoholism after the death of her husband, and again at 22 when I broke up with a boyfriend with whom I shared a flat with! the woman who taught us that life is fun, spontaneous, sometimes sad but worth it. The woman who after a few vodkas used to fall over her dogs and belly laugh whilst I carried her to bed (very difficult when your laughing so much yourself) the woman who's laugh I will never ever forget and who I miss so so much.
The woman who I owe everything to and made me the person I am today.
Such a special person who I can never replace.
Goodbye Pilly. Xxxxx
Has anyone ever met somebody who completely changes their life. I did. Pily came into my life when I was around 7 years old. She lived in a massive Victorian house right next to my school, a class mates Mum introduced my Mum to Pilly, and that was that. My twin sister Anita and I declared from that moment that Pilly was our fairy godmother, and she really was.
With a mass of flowing long red hair and huge Lennon style glasses, with clear porcelain skin and rosy red cheeks, always accompanied by a light brown lippie, she sure was an exotic creature. She was a photographer and always had her Camera on a round her shoulders ready to snap something or someone.
Pilly was born in Paris in 1937. Her parents Tanks and Phemie were living there, as soon as Pilly was born they fled to Ireland as the Nazi's had started to invade France. They led a very bohemian lifestyle in Ireland and rented a flat in the left wing of a very grand castle called Tullynally in Castlepollard near Mullingar. I spent many every Summer holiday and some winters in this castle as a young teenager, even having my first Tequila experience with the son's of Thomas Pakenham who owned the Castle (Anita had her first ever bout of alcohol poisoning - Ahhh the good old days) We also used to stay in Pilly's Auntie Maggie's cottage in Scotland during half term. A picturesque little cottage with ghosts and pear trees.
As a young adult Pilly moved to London where she sold her fabulous home made pottery at Arts and Craft fairs whilst doing photography on the side. Here in London is where Pilly met her husband, documentary maker Adrian Cowell. They fell in love and married and soon after had a baby daughter called Boojie. Adrian was away a lot as he made documentaries in Brazil and America, mainly based on the hidden tribes of Brazil. Pilly often joined him to take photographs and on one expedition to the jungle, in an area called Xingu, Pilly conceived a beautiful son whom she called...Xingu (beat that Brooklyn Beckham)
So with Boojie and Xingu in tow, Adrian and Pilly bought this beautiful big house in Tufnell Park, right next to Tufnell Park Primary School, and where I was to spend so many happy days.
Tragedy struck for Pilly when Xingu was killed in a canoeing accident during professional competition in Austria. He was only eighteen. Pilly was distraught and said it was the love and support of friends around her that saved her life.
She continued to do Pottery and live half the time in London and half the time in the castle in Ireland with me and Anita staying with her as often as we could. She had this fabulous array of beautiful and glamorous friends with funny names and titles, lords and ladies, nieces and nephews and cousins. Everyone who Pilly knew seemed rosy cheeked and jolly and slightly mad! Including Micky, Pilly's brother who has a farm in Ireland, whom I absolutely adore. Eccentric all night dinner parties were something my sister and I became quite used to! At one of them you had the head of Channel 4 having a full blown debate with Toothless Joe the builder from down the road. Life at Pilly's was never dull. She always had an abundance of Dogs and Cats, at one stage having 8 dogs; Bibo, Axel, Rosie, Rags, Bobby, Pepsi, Pingu and Scruffy. Not to mention all the others along the years Paddywack, Paddy, Cally... Too many to remember!!
She always had a roaring fire place, beautiful food on the go in the Aga in her large jungle like kitchen due to all the plants, and she always, always had lashings of vodka and tonic!! Someone commented at Pilly's funeral that he's never been to a house where so many unannounced guests popped in during the day, and they were all welcomed with a drink, a bowl of spaghetti and a wise old chat (peppered with filthy jokes and a very cheeky sense of humour) round the fire place.
She was quite simply one a kind, she drove round London in a battered Morris Minor with dogs in the back and a camera in her pocket, a long silk scarf round her neck blowing in the wind. And that is how I will always remember her.
The woman who let me and Anita live with her aged 16 because we could not live with our mother who was battling alcoholism after the death of her husband, and again at 22 when I broke up with a boyfriend with whom I shared a flat with! the woman who taught us that life is fun, spontaneous, sometimes sad but worth it. The woman who after a few vodkas used to fall over her dogs and belly laugh whilst I carried her to bed (very difficult when your laughing so much yourself) the woman who's laugh I will never ever forget and who I miss so so much.
The woman who I owe everything to and made me the person I am today.
Such a special person who I can never replace.
Goodbye Pilly. Xxxxx
Friday, 19 October 2012
And it all came falling down.
I think the last time we spoke, myself, Mike and Jacob were getting ready to set off on an adventure to Wiltshire, to help set up and run a Pub/B&B. Full of the unknown but excited at a fresh start in the fresh air.
How wrong we were.
Within days of arriving at this place (which is owned by a very well known successful brewery, so we had no reason to doubt it's credentials) we began to realise that all is not what it seemed. Firstly our accommodation wasn't ready and looked far from ever being ready! Then there was the fact the pub looked like a dumping ground and no where near ready for opening! Eeek.
Still, we rolled up our sleeves and got stuck into this 'challenge!' *cough*
I don't want to bore you all, but basically within a month horrendous events started to unfold, we found out (detective work by myself) that the project manager was a very unsavoury character indeed. I won't go into to much detail but he was basically somebody you wouldn't want anywhere near your children (which thankfully he wasn't.)
This messed with our heads and to be honest from that moment onwards I knew I couldn't stay. Even though he'd been sacked (the day I found a newspaper article detailing his criminal past I reported it to the brewery - he basically had to declare himself if he worked around children, which he did not do) I was told he may return to collect belongings etc.
We then got told if we wanted our accommodation ready we'd have to do it up ourselves (holes in floorboards, walls etc...dead mice everywhere etc) and we were spoken to with complete and utter disregard when expressed the welfare of our child in that accommodation. We were basically spoken to like shit.
And the final straw during all of this was poor Jacob had been suffering from an all over painful rash, that 4 doctors (at the local surgery and in the hospital in Bath) could just not diagnose! I was beginning to think Jacob was allergic to the place.
Realistically it could have been the water, but I can't help think it was a sign, a sign to get out as soon as possible. So we did.
We are now in Bristol trying to rebuild our lives, and looking for jobs and viewing houses. Ideally we'd like to return to London as my partner has more chance of work there. Plus I would like to return to my beloved Streatham/Balham.
I'm not going to lie, we are bruised by it all, the unsavoury people we met, the way we were treated by the owners. All in all we've come out of it a little rattled and less trusting.
And all for trying to make a better lives for ourselves.
I look back at 'The Crown' saga and wonder where it all went wrong. The place itself had a weird eerie vibe that I felt uncomfortable in from day one. Maybe someone or something was trying to tell us to go from day one.
Anyway, we took a risk and it failed. The thing that upsets me the most is how it has impacted Jacob, as he is now disrupted and out of his routine.
Although, since leaving he is completely rash- free!
I have learnt, as an adult with a child, it is not acceptable to take the same risks with jobs, homes and solid stability as you did when you were sans kid, which I guess should have been a no-brainer really.
In a month, I'll hopefully be walking the dog round Tooting Common getting ready for Christmas and laughing at what a complete nightmare it all was.
Wish us luck!
How wrong we were.
Within days of arriving at this place (which is owned by a very well known successful brewery, so we had no reason to doubt it's credentials) we began to realise that all is not what it seemed. Firstly our accommodation wasn't ready and looked far from ever being ready! Then there was the fact the pub looked like a dumping ground and no where near ready for opening! Eeek.
Still, we rolled up our sleeves and got stuck into this 'challenge!' *cough*
I don't want to bore you all, but basically within a month horrendous events started to unfold, we found out (detective work by myself) that the project manager was a very unsavoury character indeed. I won't go into to much detail but he was basically somebody you wouldn't want anywhere near your children (which thankfully he wasn't.)
This messed with our heads and to be honest from that moment onwards I knew I couldn't stay. Even though he'd been sacked (the day I found a newspaper article detailing his criminal past I reported it to the brewery - he basically had to declare himself if he worked around children, which he did not do) I was told he may return to collect belongings etc.
We then got told if we wanted our accommodation ready we'd have to do it up ourselves (holes in floorboards, walls etc...dead mice everywhere etc) and we were spoken to with complete and utter disregard when expressed the welfare of our child in that accommodation. We were basically spoken to like shit.
And the final straw during all of this was poor Jacob had been suffering from an all over painful rash, that 4 doctors (at the local surgery and in the hospital in Bath) could just not diagnose! I was beginning to think Jacob was allergic to the place.
Realistically it could have been the water, but I can't help think it was a sign, a sign to get out as soon as possible. So we did.
We are now in Bristol trying to rebuild our lives, and looking for jobs and viewing houses. Ideally we'd like to return to London as my partner has more chance of work there. Plus I would like to return to my beloved Streatham/Balham.
I'm not going to lie, we are bruised by it all, the unsavoury people we met, the way we were treated by the owners. All in all we've come out of it a little rattled and less trusting.
And all for trying to make a better lives for ourselves.
I look back at 'The Crown' saga and wonder where it all went wrong. The place itself had a weird eerie vibe that I felt uncomfortable in from day one. Maybe someone or something was trying to tell us to go from day one.
Anyway, we took a risk and it failed. The thing that upsets me the most is how it has impacted Jacob, as he is now disrupted and out of his routine.
Although, since leaving he is completely rash- free!
I have learnt, as an adult with a child, it is not acceptable to take the same risks with jobs, homes and solid stability as you did when you were sans kid, which I guess should have been a no-brainer really.
In a month, I'll hopefully be walking the dog round Tooting Common getting ready for Christmas and laughing at what a complete nightmare it all was.
Wish us luck!
Monday, 10 September 2012
Jacob's first steps; The beginning....
Last week Jacob took his first little foot steps! Mike and I were literally blown away and so proud of our little man. Every day since we have been practising and he's getting more confident and steadier on his feet.
It's such an amazing time in his life, he's saying full words, trying to spell his name (jayyyy, seeeeee, ooooohhhh, beeeee not always in the correct order!) turning one this month and now walking.
I'm fully aware that once he starts walking my days of sitting on my butt eating Pringles and playing with him and his toys are over. Now I'll be sprinting around all over the place making sure he's not up to mischief and desperately wishing I had eyes in the back of my head.
I always used to think that slim ladies who proclaimed to be skinny because 'they are running around after a toddler all day' were telling fibs, but now I totally get it and actually lost half a stone when Jake started crawling.
And as I watch him this week, climbing and trying and getting there slowly but surely, I'm fully aware of one thing.....
A tornado is coming.
It's such an amazing time in his life, he's saying full words, trying to spell his name (jayyyy, seeeeee, ooooohhhh, beeeee not always in the correct order!) turning one this month and now walking.
I'm fully aware that once he starts walking my days of sitting on my butt eating Pringles and playing with him and his toys are over. Now I'll be sprinting around all over the place making sure he's not up to mischief and desperately wishing I had eyes in the back of my head.
I always used to think that slim ladies who proclaimed to be skinny because 'they are running around after a toddler all day' were telling fibs, but now I totally get it and actually lost half a stone when Jake started crawling.
And as I watch him this week, climbing and trying and getting there slowly but surely, I'm fully aware of one thing.....
A tornado is coming.
Saturday, 8 September 2012
Parents v The rest of The World
The other day I posted this comment (photographed) on an online parenting forum discussing the infamous 'Crying Baby in a Plane' debate. One lady had stated that it was 'unfair' on fellow passengers to bring our children onto flights especially long haul. I received in all 46 'likes' for the post, but considering it was a parenting forum , it was parents (who therefor could sympathise!) who were mainly reading.
It was when I posted on Facebook that the shit hit the fan. Having not that many 'mummy' friends on FB due to being the first of my group to enter motherhood I was shocked by some of the venom I received from my so called 'mates'!
One guy who I have known for quite a few years and is a mutual friend to one of my best friends made it clear that it wasn't our children that people were annoyed by on planes, it was us, the parents for being so bloody selfish in bringing them on a plane in the first place (a tube of pain, he called it) and that how dare people have to suffer all because us parents feel the need to "get away" He basically said I was a terrible mother for wanting to go on holiday.
Anyway, the argument escalated, my partner got involved, it got silly and personal until I ended up deleting the whole stupid thing (I only really posted it to show off my 38 likes I had at the time, fickle? Yup!) but it really upset me and just confirmed how sick I am of being made to feel like Satan's daughter whenever I get on to the bus with a pram, try to sit in a busy cafe with a pram, get tutted at in shops if my pram gets in the way.
Why am I constantly apologising for being in the way!? FUCK OFF!
Maybe it's just London in summer, it's overcrowded, hot and stuffy and people have very little respect for one another. And that's fine, but I really do feel that the old fashioned value of respecting women and children has gone, truly gone. Children are treated like dogs. Mums are treated like pests. Trust me I've worked in the hospitality industry long enough to know for a fact that groups of mothers & babies are most cafes and restaurants worst nightmare.
Don't get me wrong, I don't want special treatment, I was a single gal about town once y'know I know the drill! And the world doesn't revolve around you just cos you've had a kid. I just want to stop being tutted at please!
Are us parents really so annoying? And can we really be deemed selfish for wanting to go on holiday? Last time I checked taking your child on a lovely holiday, visit grandparents etc.. Wasn't considered bad parenting?!
Anyhoo, I got an apology in the end.
Thanks.
It was when I posted on Facebook that the shit hit the fan. Having not that many 'mummy' friends on FB due to being the first of my group to enter motherhood I was shocked by some of the venom I received from my so called 'mates'!
One guy who I have known for quite a few years and is a mutual friend to one of my best friends made it clear that it wasn't our children that people were annoyed by on planes, it was us, the parents for being so bloody selfish in bringing them on a plane in the first place (a tube of pain, he called it) and that how dare people have to suffer all because us parents feel the need to "get away" He basically said I was a terrible mother for wanting to go on holiday.
Anyway, the argument escalated, my partner got involved, it got silly and personal until I ended up deleting the whole stupid thing (I only really posted it to show off my 38 likes I had at the time, fickle? Yup!) but it really upset me and just confirmed how sick I am of being made to feel like Satan's daughter whenever I get on to the bus with a pram, try to sit in a busy cafe with a pram, get tutted at in shops if my pram gets in the way.
Why am I constantly apologising for being in the way!? FUCK OFF!
Maybe it's just London in summer, it's overcrowded, hot and stuffy and people have very little respect for one another. And that's fine, but I really do feel that the old fashioned value of respecting women and children has gone, truly gone. Children are treated like dogs. Mums are treated like pests. Trust me I've worked in the hospitality industry long enough to know for a fact that groups of mothers & babies are most cafes and restaurants worst nightmare.
Don't get me wrong, I don't want special treatment, I was a single gal about town once y'know I know the drill! And the world doesn't revolve around you just cos you've had a kid. I just want to stop being tutted at please!
Are us parents really so annoying? And can we really be deemed selfish for wanting to go on holiday? Last time I checked taking your child on a lovely holiday, visit grandparents etc.. Wasn't considered bad parenting?!
Anyhoo, I got an apology in the end.
Thanks.
Thursday, 23 August 2012
Nursery Guilt....
So, in a months time shortly after Jacob's first birthday, he will be attending nursery two days a week. We viewed the place, Snapdragons in Corsham, Wilts, yesterday and it was a lovely nursery. The staff were warm, enthusiastic and friendly and the place had a lovely, colourful, happy feel about it, I guess I'll be registering him asap.
On the way home I couldn't help but feel a bit guilty, and scared. Am I being ridiculous? I know it's not an uncommon sight to see mums and dads shedding a tear after dropping their little ones at nursery for the first time, but is Jacob just a little too young?
Urgh. It's 2 days a week! I think I'm probably being a bit hard on myself here. He'll probably have a great time and won't even notice I've gone, and an even sillier part of me thinks maybe he'll enjoy being away from me because I'm boring and tired all the time, and his stupid dog is continually eating his toys etc etc and as soon as he can talk, he'll be begging me to go full time!
Any advice would be greatly appreciated! :) L x
On the way home I couldn't help but feel a bit guilty, and scared. Am I being ridiculous? I know it's not an uncommon sight to see mums and dads shedding a tear after dropping their little ones at nursery for the first time, but is Jacob just a little too young?
Urgh. It's 2 days a week! I think I'm probably being a bit hard on myself here. He'll probably have a great time and won't even notice I've gone, and an even sillier part of me thinks maybe he'll enjoy being away from me because I'm boring and tired all the time, and his stupid dog is continually eating his toys etc etc and as soon as he can talk, he'll be begging me to go full time!
Any advice would be greatly appreciated! :) L x
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