Über mothers, school and growing up...

Thank you so much for all of your kind wishes for Boo's entrance exam. It went 'OK' - that was the main comment I could glean from her. Hard to gauge what exactly that means; I am not sure whether at 10 years of age, you can measure your success in the form of a verbal reasoning test where you scored 65% or above! I am so pleased it's over and that we can, as a family, breath a collective sigh of relief.

I did come away from that school hall wondering - what's it all about? Why is it that we feel compelled to propel our children headlong into the best of all opportunities. At the exam, the mother's tongues were positively clacking with competitiveness as we waited for our off-spring to be released. Talk of private tutors and years worth of preparation to get in the 'right' school.

Admittedly we too have aimed high; this school is allegedly one of the country's best and they like that 'quirk' factor in their intake. Pupils who are academic, sure, but who also will go on to be captains of industry and in their spare time climb Kilimanjaro for charity. I got a sense of disquiet as we left, and it remains with me, when I wonder why we want to subject Boo to the rigours of a competitive school. We were advised to try for this school and whilst there is a flush of pride at the prospect of her success, there is also the concern that at the young age of 10, she could also taste academic 'failure'.

And those super-mothers that my friends and I encountered; I am not sure what to make of them. Two observations; there is always a degree to which we vicariously live through our children's success. And secondly, for those lucky ones who also experienced the benefits of the best schooling the country had to offer in their youth, there is that sense of entitlement. As I had a pretty average childhood, with average state schooling, I think I am always slightly in awe of those mothers who take all that privilege for granted. It's what they are used to. I do acknowledge that my life is privileged but somewhere, deep down, I justify that with the fact that my husband and I worked really hard for it and still do. It was never a given.

The other feature of my disquiet is the certain knowledge that whatever happens; whether it's this school or another, come September she will be moving into a whole different sphere. One where I inhabit a much smaller place. Parental input will come in the form of once-a-term teacher/parent meetings and each day, instead of me kissing her goodbye in her classroom, she will be out on her own. Dropped at school by bus. Such a strange reality to face. It is simultaneously wildly exciting; my child out in the world! But also terrifying; my child out in the world!!

As ever with parenthood, it's bittersweet. As each stage passes I look back on the previous one and consider how lovely it was back then. But despite any trepidation I have this frisson of pure excitement at what she is going to grow into. What she will become. I can't wait to see.

Life lessons...

All that time he was working away, he really would have rather been at home more.

I would do pretty much anything to preserve my children's happiness.

Getting a puppy was one of the best decisions I ever made.

Natalie Portman in Teen Vogue

I can feed our family of four, good square meals that don't cost much, with enough careful planning and clever shopping.

My hair is really going grey and I really don't like it.

The pangs I get when I miss my oldest and dearest friends are common to us all; life got busy and we got less time together. It's a sad fact.

I do care what others think of me.

It's OK that I  spend a lot of time thinking about my outfits.

Christy Turlington

That time I first felt a wave of pain in my jaw, I so should have seen a Physiotherapist and not a dentist. Or a doctor. Or a consultant.

A strong marriage is one where you are not both competing to be the one working the hardest. It's not a contest.

via foxontherunbride

I have too heavy a reliance on earl grey tea.

There is only so much housework I can do; there is more to life than laundry.

I heart the 1980's in the way my parents hearted the 1960's.

Ohhhh Rob Lowe...80's heart throb

Relinquishing control of my influence over my child's future is exceptionally hard. (As in: I can't sit the exam for her)

In order to be truly physically fit, to the extent that you are your optimum weight and are thoroughly toned, requires daily training. Three times a week actually doesn't do it...unbelievable, but true.

In most matters, what goes around comes around.

Good writing still has the capacity to take my breath away; just like it did when I was 13 and started studying literature.

It really was a mistake to get rid of that fur-collared, wool coat I had at University. Same goes for that perfect pleated skirt that formed my burgeoning 'work wardrobe'. Not to mention that vintage red Mulberry clutch. Ditto those perfectly faded Levi 501s.

Tell me...what is your latest life lesson?

January Diaries: Mary from 'Mary Loves' Guest Post

The third of my diary guest posts is from Mary who writes the blog 'Mary Loves'. I feel that Mary and I have parallel lives; she in Boston and I here. We both work in corporate environments, we both share this sense that we could be doing more. Whether it's trying harder at motherhood (is it ever just enough?!) or at life in general. Always striving to be the best version of ourselves. Mary has written this searingly honest post which really speaks to me. The way she describes her normal day captures the very essence of working motherhood. How little glitches along the way, like weather or traffic, can literally turn a good day into a not so good one. As soon as something stumbles into the cogs of the wheel, an imperceptible pressure is placed on the working mother. I think Mary describes this so honestly and so perfectly. Her love for her gorgeous boys shines through too and I adore that they dance and play every night without fail! 

I was so honoured that Lou asked me to write a guest post for her. This blog is one of my absolute favorites. Lou is always so honest and open in her writing, and I think that's why her blog resonates with so many people. She says quite eloquently what so many of us are thinking, and it's so nice to be able to nod your head and think "me too! me too!".  Thanks Lou!

A typical winter day in the life of Mary…

I wake up at 5:45, and I take a shower and get dressed. I get up early so I can get ready before my little guys, ages 2 and 5, wake up. (I try, anyway - lately I have had an audience for my shower.) I get dressed, go downstairs and prepare breakfast (often oatmeal in the winter), pack our bags, and get things ready to go. Mornings are often a blur of getting the boys dressed, fed, and out the door. I actually like it when they wake up a little earlier, because it allows us more time to eat breakfast together and talk, maybe even play a little before we have to rush off.

Winters in Boston can be tough, especially when handling the typical weekday routine. Thankfully, we invested in a remote car starter, and it has become one of my favorite possessions ever. It doesn't hurt quite as much to get myself and the boys into the car on a freezing winter morning. I won't talk about the days when I have to shovel first, though.

I take them to day care and then drive into Boston. My commute is about 35 minutes on a typical day, longer on a snowy or rainy one. I work from home two days a week, which helps tremendously. The other days, I've decided to look at my commute as having a block of time devoted to listening to music.  I try to relax and not worry about the traffic or the clock and just focus on the songs. Before I know it, I'm at the office. 5:45 to 9AM - my typical morning is long, so I work hard to try to make things easy on myself. (Yes I recognize the paradox there.)  

I work until 4, at which time I do that commute in reverse to go get the boys, and we are usually home by 5. I make dinner while the boys play, and then we eat together. We talk about our days, what they learned, and how they played. I make words with our magnet alphabet on the side of the fridge so my five-year-old can practice reading. He loves this, and he's getting really good! After dinner, we dance.  Almost always. My two-year-old's dance style involves hopping up and down, swinging one arm wildly over his head. It's awesome and I hope it stays his signature move. My five-year-old's moves involve more of his shoulders and hips. Equally awesome. Dancing very often ends with tickling or chasing, and then we move on to something else. When we're all in a good mood, I leave the dishes and play. Lego's, trains, marbles, puzzles…whatever it is, it's fun, and I love this time. I will admit, though, that there are some days that we're not all in a good mood, and on those days it can be better if I clean up while they play independently.

Then comes bedtime, which can be so difficult sometimes with my little guys. It can sap me completely of all energy. I find myself chanting, "It's only a phase, it's only a phase, it's only…" After baths and pyjamas and stories, it's lights out before 8 o'clock. 

Then starts my favorite time of day. Peace. I have been trying to take ten minutes to sit quietly - I would say meditate, but I am not very good at quieting my mind completely. I do try, though, and I will say that it does make a difference. I feel the muscles in my face and shoulders relax as I sit and breathe. I then hop on the computer for a bit, writing a post on my blog, reading my favorites, or catching up on email. I clean up the kitchen, pack lunches for the next day, and then retreat to the living room with a mug of ice cream. I try to get to bed by 9:30 or 10 so I can read for a while, although my fondness for the peaceful and quiet night time hours usually keeps me up too late. I always end my days in bed with a book.

If you have just noticed that my husband hasn't made an appearance, it's because he travels nearly full-time for work. I am usually on my own during the week.

And here is where I share my excellent, life-changing news! As of next summer, I will be taking some time off of work. Maybe as much as two years. Next year at this time, my "typical day" will look dramatically different! This is a very good thing. I am so excited at the prospect of having more time with my boys, walking them to school, and having more time to manage things at home. 

Lou, thanks so much for having me! Maybe you can do a similar series next year and I can share how much things have changed!  

'A clean slate, with your own face on'

Another little milestone in the whirl of day-to-day parenting; Boo started studying an author whose work I have studied. I am conscious as she gets older that she will step the same path as I did; the urge I feel to arm her with wisdom as she takes those steps, can be overwhelming. I have to remind myself that she is her own person; she is not another me.

Boo came home from school with a Sylvia Plath poem...rather advanced for 10 years of age I thought, but it was lovely; the poem 'You're' is about motherhood. An ode to her unborn child. However troubled Plath's life was, she glimpsed genius in her work. I wrote my college dissertation on Sylvia Plath so it resonates with me and reading this poem with my daughter, I was struck again what a full circle life can be. The final line refers to her baby as being '...a clean slate, with you own face on.' That is what Boo is to me. We look, people tell me, uncannily similar (I suspect she is prettier than I ever was; but that could be a mother's love making me biased?)

I remembered, as we talked about the poem and all of its references, when she was born, her little face, was hers and mine and his. That strange mingling of us three, so evident in a firstborn child. The hours I spent just looking at her, fascinated by her. And even now, years later, I can still get that flash of memory of her as a baby, still there in her ever-changing, maturing face. A heady combination of nostalgia and sentimentality mixed with her future potential. This motherhood; it still amazes me every day.

...love this...a silver cross pram!

It's all about the detail...

Never before have the details in life seemed so noticeable to me. In almost every aspect of my little life, these details appear; that bit extra that makes something special. I have a friend who always says 'it's the detail!' when we shop for clothes. I am always the one looking for the best leather, the quirky detail, the right buttons.

Natalia Vodianova via a taste of blue

In motherhood, I see it's those little details that can make the day go more smoothly. Where I have have their favourite cakes as an after-school snack. At home, the meal that happens effortlessly but is made with the best ingredients and goes all to plan. The patience and coaching as I sit with them to do homework. I am noticing that given the time and pure dedication, it is possible for me to provide all of those little details.

Historically, I have always had a quiet awe for women who manage this. They are a certain type who are able to constantly stay one step ahead. When the children were smaller, these mothers were the ones who would (with a swish of a perfect ponytail) serenely draw out a nutritious snack and drink, where I would have forgotten mine and my toddler would have to chew on their own hands!

But...and I wouldn't be me if there wasn't a but...what is it all about?! Never before have I had the time or the inclination to be so bothered with these little details. Instead a perpetual inner dialogue in my head raged; always justifying why I couldn't make the perfect meal/be the best mother I could be/have lipstick and pretty dress on as my husband returned at the end of a busy work day. I railed against being too organised. But now I begrudgingly admit I judged those women whose day consisted of little else but managing these details. And look at me now; pot calling the kettle black.

There is a hint of Stepford wife-dom in my life at the moment, as I sense that I am subconsciously trying to make up for all my past wrongs. But the point is: they weren't wrongs exactly, they were just less-thans. I did less than I could have done, as I put priority into other areas; like time for myself or for my job.

via nantucket youth

I do enjoy the little details and it's a quiet thrill now to be able to provide them for my family...but I do wonder if it's unsustainable. All of this 'thinking' time is about me trying to establish how to live a life that does not burn the candle at both ends until everything is, frankly, well, extinguished. I read a book that is shiveringly accurate in its depiction of 'perfect' motherhood and its darker side. It's called 'This Perfect World'...and I have to say it was disturbing reading; for the degree to which I identified with these über mothers.

I know to some readers this will seem like an unimaginable depth of navel-gazing. But I find myself really questioning these elements of life at this time.  We only get one chance at this; what is the best way to choose to live your life? Constantly striving for perfection or content with what you have? 

I am thinking the best place to start this fundamental life pondering is with a cuppa tea and a good book; I'll let you know if I find the answer but until then...

How does she do it?

Happy Wednesday...this week is sprinting by; I can not get over how much there is going on at the moment. No time to stop, so just to say this is what's happening here right now...

...more apples than I know what to do with; we have a glut in our garden orchard...

...after school football practice...

...puppy fun...

...and more puppy fun...

I went to see 'I don't know how she does it' last night with some friends. I read this book years ago and found it such an accurate depiction of my life it was almost disconcerting. The film plays out the whole working mother debate and at times when watching, my heart literally ached with the empathy I had for SJP's character. I found it thought-provoking, although the film itself was fairly average. Her handbag had a starring role (...and best supporting actress goes to the Mulberry Alexa!); it was in almost every scene and as I have one I spent a lot of time looking at it!

Interestingly the film has a different ending to the book...so I felt that the matter of working motherhood was entirely unresolved at the end! I guess I have to accept there will never be an answer to this one.

I have come to the conclusion that whether working mother or not, life has a frenetic pace. No matter whether I decide it or not, there is something about this time of my life that demands energy and resilience. Time for some peace and quiet?! Yes please...

Charlie who?

A good, and as it turns out, very astute friend of mine and I were idly chatting. She was describing how in her childrens' school, there was an award system. Children were awarded on effort rather than results and any child who achieved a top mark for effort in all subjects was given what's called the 'Charlie Short' prize at the end of term. This denoted the child who tried really hard at everything.

via this flickr

We later discussed how I had concluded that for years I have been trying too hard at everything; how the constant pursuit of perfection in all elements of life - home, work, children, marriage, appearance, meant I was exhausted with the effort. She asked me: was I trying to get the Charlie Short prize in life?!

This question stuck with me long after our conversation took place and I now find myself applying a mental test to any efforts I am making - Lou: is this a Charlie Short thing? I have noticed something startling; whilst not working in recent months I have had the opportunity to throw myself into the daily lives of my children. No work meetings that clash with the school run. No corporate conference calls that necessitate their silence in the car as we drive home. No ducking out of parent's evening. No guilt-ridden goodbyes. No feeling that I am missing something. I am now a mother who is at everything; every netball match, every drop-off, I am even ensconced in every bit of school playground gossip; such is my recent dedication! However the more this develops, the more I notice that the same instincts I had about my work are starting to apply to my mothering. I want to be at every coffee morning, I want to know every little detail, I want (and this is the crucial, startling point to me) to be really good at it. 

Without even knowing it, I am going for the Charlie Short prize of motherhood! So thankfully, with a drop of self-awareness, I am able to take myself in hand. There is no prize for effort. I don't need to be perfect. I feel like I can look at myself and recognise when I am trying too hard. It's time to get over it Louise! So next time I seem like I am trying too hard - two words to stop me in my tracks please: Charlie Short!

Coming up for air...

Things I have learned, now that I am currently not working. There is time...

I wake in the morning and normally I would, within seconds, be assessing whether it was a work day, who was going where, what I had in my schedule. Every decision would stem from that; how much time I had to do any given thing. I see now how time-obsessed I have been for so many years. Not unlike many, many women, I have worked since the day I finished University until now, punctuated only by two episodes of maternity leave, both lasting 8 months. Looking back, of course the time I was not working when I had my babies could hardly be described as 'not working'. Those early months were amongst the hardest work ever!

via sailboats and seersucker

The thing I notice the most is that my whole attitude to time dictated how I had to schedule every activity within an inch of its life. For example, laundry had to be done on certain days because if it wasn't no one would have any clothes to wear. I couldn't ever put it off as I knew that I would be working the next day. I religiously allocated slots of time to everything, constantly, and just that action over 10 years has, I can see now, been exhausting. I am exhausted with the scheduling and the logistics. Every invitation requires military decision-making on work commitments and their impact of school collection times. Every 'nice thing' could be slightly tarnished by the fact that I would have to move heaven and earth to make it happen. This particularly noticeable with the children, whose activities and needs I now find I can accommodate with minimal extra effort. It becomes a pleasure rather than a chore...

Yet - my mind is not still or passive with the relief of not working for a while. Not working is almost not natural to me. It's all I have ever done and I find my mind wandering to what my colleagues are doing, who is doing my work, what projects are slipping, what decisions are faltering. Then of course I remind myself that life goes on in the corporate world and not for one second would I presume that they can't live without me, be it temporarily or permanently.

This leads me as well to the working mother vs stay at home mother conundrum.  I feel like I can now look at both sides. Much like childbirth, which I experienced on one occasion with all the drugs and on the other with none. I can honestly say neither was better or worse, the experiences were just different. I see now how attached I have been for so long to the working mother crusade, as if I single-handedly had to champion the fact that women can work and be good mothers. I find this fascinating now that I can see it more objectively.

All the advice I have had to slow down in recent weeks does ring true now and I see that I was going too fast; dare I say dangerously so. My body and the pain I have been feeling (read: trying to ignore for over a year) have been telling me; it's time to stop. I spend my days now just trying to 'be' and when I write that, I really mean it this time. I have purported to just 'be' before on this blog, and I see that I was tricking myself in the belief that I was. Now - this time - is different.

I am left with the unnerving realisation that the pain is linked to the life I have been leading; in some way the stress and honestly, I had never thought of this, but the ergonomics of how I live have contributed to all of my muscles just seizing up. I try now to notice that my shoulders are hunched all of the time. I consciously have to drop them when I sit typing this or when I drive the kids to school. The tension is gradually seeping away but my goodness it's a slow progress. I tell myself: it took years to get this way, it won't stop in 4 weeks.

I don't really know what tomorrow holds, let alone the future. It is completely alien to me to be in this sort of free-fall; decisions unmade, life choices unknown. But isn't that the thing with well being? You can't rush it...

...dawn in the Isle of Wight...taken by my husband on his iphone...

And so it goes...

The sojourn to Wimbledon was lovely; so utterly British and proper. My main recollection: Pimms in glasses and beautiful blue hydrangeas in every flower pot. Ralph Lauren blazers worn by all of the linesmen and women; very dapper. We go again on Thursday for another onslaught of 'Corporate Entertainment' where the highest echelons of corporate wifery are required; pretty dresses and sparkling repartee...

via a lady's findings by a little sussy

Meanwhile on the home front, days of a more trying kind. Trying to be a good parent, a bastion of good advice and calmness. This has partially alluded me this week as Boo has veered from happy to sad to downright anxious about a school trip. Oh if only I could give her the life experience to see that she will grow from things that challenge her. When your kids have to do tough things it makes you question whether you should save them from their own anxieties. I run with the view that says 'she has to learn'. But my goodness, it's hard to stand by and know that you could take it all away by saying an emphatic 'you don't have to go.'

I turn to reading John Updike in times of trouble - I like his salty New England observations. Am I the only one who loves this writer? What is it? Currently reading 'The Witches of Eastwick'...

I mentioned I was seeing many-a-specialist in efforts to resolve the pain issue. So far it's been one step forward, two steps back. It's funny isn't it how many of the alternative therapies purport to 'fix you', yet it's unclear what actually delivers a fix. All I know is that the fix is not yet in my grasp and the pain persists. I do sometimes wonder...how exactly did I get here? Did I loose my compass?

via 79 ideas

Don't water too much...

At one level I have good stories of Mother's Day yesterday. Cuppa tea in bed from my children, then out for breakfast with my Mum, tulips and gifts. In a twist of fate my Dad came to stay with us for one night and it just happened to be on Mother's Day. Amazing how having divorced parents can still bite - even at the age of 37. So this meant I couldn't spend the day with my Mum, who is, by the way, the example of the most giving, wonderful, awe-inspiring, loving mothers one could ever hope for or design.

So we had a family lunch nevertheless, without my Mum but with my Dad and my husband's family. All well and good, until I heard myself utter some words to Boo about her table manners that were so laced with disappointment and put-down that the moment they left my lips, I regretted it. In my sideways view I noticed her face etch with shame and oh my goodness, if I could have taken back what I said in that instant I would have. She covered her face. I wanted to cover mine. On Mother's Day of all days.

I do sometimes hold too high standards for her, and I need to stop that. My heart aches now a day later...for even though in the scheme of things it was a minor thing, a mere comment; what it represents to me is the pressure that I don't want her to feel. I don't want to be one of those mothers who layer on subtle pressures day after day; ones that knit together to form a blanket of weight on her little shoulders.

So I am afraid, on this sunny Monday I am feeling kinda sad and pensive...water a little and it will grow; water too much and the plant wilts.

via are so happy

The kids are alright...

This week so far has been spent in the delightful company of my children. May I just say? They are pretty cool. Every now and then testosterone gets the better of my son; it bubbles up and has nowhere to go but to spill over. However, he is the most uncomplicated of souls; all blonde curls and boyish straight-forwardness. My daughter is all beauty and grace. They impressed me when we spent the afternoon helping out with their newest baby cousin. I loved that we could swoop in like a maternal 'big bird' and assist my very tired sister in law who enters week three of motherhood. She was able to sleep while we watched the baby; my children talked in whispers for over an hour and I had to cast my mind back to the days of nappy changes and that bizarre hard-wired mothering skill of rocking a baby to sleep.

I came away though still grateful that my kids are older and they can do stuff. The basic necessity of feeding and sleeping of a newborn was then juxtaposed with the ability and competence of my older children. In the evening, we went swimming and I watched as they leapt and sprang about, underwater, on the water. Thinking back to the days we taught them to swim. Or the day that they first learned to ride a bike. Or the first day of school. Or just standing at the kitchen window watching them on the swings outside, swinging high! It was just yesterday they were being rocked by me and now I am bystander in this new world they are creating. It's bizarre. And quite nice.

As ever, motherhood is a marathon not a sprint - you take each day as it comes.  But each day brings something nearing greatness...even if it's found in the small things.

Baby day...

I am an Auntie again! My latest nephew (I now have three nephews and two nieces) was born late last night. I am so proud of my lovely sister in law who is literally like the little sister I never had. A baby boy to start their family tree. Wonderful, wonderful news.

Over these past weeks as her pregnancy has progressed I have found myself thinking back almost 10 years to the time when I had Boo; my first born. It's with mixed feelings that I remember this time, as although of course we were overjoyed to have our baby, her coming did change me - and us - forever. I was on cloud nine when she arrived, but then, for a short time after, the rain come down and it took me a while to get myself back afterwards. Now as a bystander to another family growing, I find myself conflicted; half wishing I could have my time again and to re-write it with the life experience I have gained now. I was too young then, too unsure and with simply not enough life experience to see through the fog of those early newborn weeks and months. But equally I look back and see how much I learned from those times and how much clarity I have found from having children.

via are so happy

I am right where I want to be and for all the challenging, sleepless times of looking after a young baby, I am now replete with my family. My children are and will always be the single most important, most inventive, most vital thing I ever did - we ever did. I entered the room of motherhood and closed the door and whilst over the years there have been times when I have peeked back through that door to my life before...my main direction of view has been forwards into this ever-expanding room of motherhood, where daily there are experiences and visions of experiences that confirm; I am in the right place.

And just for good measure, a favourite scene that never leaves a dry eye...from 'She's having a baby'.

Full circle...

I go in this full circle every few months. It happens like this...

I make lots of mental and emotional deals with my inner self to try very hard at life and be generally better at everything. I will be a patient and loving mother who gives quality time to her children. I will nurture them and support them. I will be a high-performing employee who is respected for her intellect and expertise in equal measure. I will be an attentive and sparky friend to all of my dearly cherished buddies, regularly meeting up to catch up and share. I will clear my house of all plastic kiddie atrocities and keep it resembling a feature in 'Country Living' at all times. I will eat healthily and responsibly; sourcing local and in-season ingredients to make delicious and nutritious food for myself and my family. I will maintain my hair, body and face so all three are in harmony and a glorious representation of what a 36 year old woman can look like. I will get dressed and treat every day like it is a 'Sartorialist' day. I will wear thoughtful and appropriate outfits characterised by subtle, cool details that people (mainly other women) will admire. I will spend my money responsibly and not fritter it away on unnecessary purchases.

And then some time passes, I try really hard and this is what happens...

I am patient and supportive to my kids for less time than I honestly consider is 'enough'. I secretly long to get online and surf/blog/buy rather than spend time playing games with them (eeek, confession). I feel disillusioned with my employer as I give and give and give and don't get quite so much back. Months go by and I realise I have not spoken to friends and/or have forgotten a birthday. My house goes in peaks and troughs of tidiness; a 'Country Living' spread would be a distinct impossibility today! I eat bad food and then wonder why I have no energy. On the outfit front it's hit or miss - some days are Ugg days. I am longing to buy spring clothes to lift my wintry mood but the funding is not quite there. I could go on....

Then, the next stage in the circle is I think of others who are considerably worse off than me. Friends and acquaintances who have been dealt cards that are so much harder to accept than mine. And I conclude two things: i) I need to get a grip and ii) things really aren't so bad. Finally I decided I need to cut myself some slack, relax and try to enjoy life more without making it all such a Herculean effort.

And off we go again...welcome to the circle :-)

Baby love...

So, did I mention I am going to be an Auntie again? My lovely sister in law N is pregnant, due in a few months. As with many things in life it's been a long road to get here and now, well let's just say we are all as pleased as punch that it's time for a new addition to the family.

 

Her and I just spent the evening talking about babies and birth and the whole damn miracle. A trip down memory lane for me as I realise it was ten years ago that I did all of that business for the first time. TEN YEARS? My goodness. I am not sure how I feel about this! But as for N, I am nothing but excited for her to take this step into motherhood and I hope I can be there along the way to help her out, hold her hand, make it better when it's tough (as it will be tough at times) and just revel in the joys.

To me, there is something really special about being able to observe someone I love go through this process now, when I am so far 'out the other side'. The baby stage was hard for me, as I have blogged about before and I have to admit I kinda want to have a chance again to enjoy being with a baby. I really hope I get that opportunity without quite so much of the angst I had with my own.

...Gisele...how is it possible to be this beautiful?

...'yey' for mothers...

...love the bump...

...baby love...

I have said before motherhood is a marathon not a sprint; the pregnancy/baby stage is just one section of an enormous complex route. But that stage is just so special, especially for the first time when everything is so fresh and new. I wish her all the luck in the world...

Love Auntie Lou xxx

The fine line...

One of my most-used phrases is this: 'it's a fine line between...whatever and whatever' [fill in the blanks; whatever can be anything]. This premise seems to apply to almost all life situations that I face. Some examples:

It's a fine line between pushy parenting and instilling competitiveness in one's children.

It's a fine line between raising a girl to be a woman and making her grow up too soon.

via bippitybobbityboo

It's a fine line between a fresh, modern Keira Knightley bob and the dreaded 'housewife hair' sported by so many women. Note to self: the reason Keira looks awesome with a bob is because she has Keira's face!

Keira at Chanel last week...

It's a fine line between keeping up with what everyone else needs and doing what you need.

It's a fine line between staying trim and looking gaunt/old/ill. Case in point: Victoria Beckham.

It's a fine line between wanting those shoes and needing them.

It's a fine line between spending all your time keeping house and living in squalor if housework is left to its own devices.

It's a fine line between blogging cos I love it and spending all my time on the computer. 'Are you on the computer again Mummy?'

When did this 'fine line' start featuring in every thought I have?! I'm always one to try to find the balance in any circumstance. On the one hand this and on the other hand that...

Achieving the balance of this fine line is like walking a tight rope. If you get your balance it's a wondrous thing, a great view, a thing of art and beauty. If you wobble it can make onlookers wince, you waver there for tantalising moments and then sometimes you regain composure or...you fall. Most of the time there's a safety net so it's OK. I don't recall ever weighing these things up when I was younger, even though I was always a wise soul. But now, with advancing years I see that it's all about this fine line; finding it, walking it, straying from it every now and then...

by Steven Meisel

Little me?

So Boo is nine; I can so recall being that age, when the things that you never noticed when you were eight, now at nine seem much, much more important. She has become more interested in recent months in clothes, her hair...ostensibly she has noticed how she looks. I simultaneously like and struggle with this. I like that she cares about her appearance and that her tastes are developing. I drill in my own preoccupation with clothes needing to be both age and season appropriate - I can not stand bare legs in winter, for example. She gets that the colour pink - which was the mainstay of her entire wardrobe from ages 0 to 4 - is now somewhat relegated.

But then I struggle with it; I wouldn't be me if I just accepted every parental hurdle as 'a phase' would I?! Observing vanity in the very young is off-putting. All we can wish for is that daughters show grace as they grow up; one of the most attractive traits is for style and beauty to be effortless. Where a girl is unaware of the beauty she possesses; in whatever form it comes.

The developing interest in clothes is something I discussed with Amanda when we met; her Boo is a few years younger than mine. It seemed both of us were delighted our daughters were taking an interest in clothes and fashion, as those elements of life were important to us, but both wondering aloud if that made us, err, shallow as mothers? I am aware that the fact that I make the effort may be construed by others as odd/vain/shallow and so surely extolling the same virtues in my daughter is inappropriate?

I guess as they say, the apple never falls far from the tree, and I rationalise this by thinking isn't it better to try one's best when possible? And isn't trying hard with appearance kinda the same thing as trying hard academically or socially? Similar at least? Whatever, it's cool to see her grow and be comfortable in the skin she is in. I have had a life-long love of clothes; certainly my Mum will attest to that and is the same and I think it's no bad thing.

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