tiny little baby steps

maternity featured

The cradle still stands in the corner of our bedroom. Unused for months, I have managed to strip it back to the bare mattress, sheets and blankets washed and then remade up on a cot that recently dropped from the newborn setting to the lower big baby no-you-can’t-stand-up-here level. The contents of the nappy bag are shifting, no longer stuffed to the brim with chuck

I need new friends.

Ones who don’t make me cry in the kitchen at 10pm at night when everyone else is in bed. It’s kind of a long story. When Beetle was born, the lovely Miss AJ was clearing out some baby clothes, and offered me a big parcel of baby boys stuff. And by full, I mean the post bag was bursting at the seams, literally. There was

wordless wednesday

  It’s raining. Butterfly is unwell. We are snuggling under blankies and watching movies in pillow piles. We’ve baked a cake. The smell of dinner in the slow cooker wafts out from the kitchen. A spot of work to finalise and then some secret squirrel crafting. No point fighting the winter, instead we’ll hunker down and make the most of it.

the circle continues

Bear has been desperate to learn to knit for a month or so now. So with Boy2 back at preschool, and a bonus day holiday thanks to a pupil free day (bless you, new national curriculum), we hit up the craft shop, found some chunky yarn and bamboo needles, and merrily tucked ourselves up on the daybed, to get down to the serious business of

boy of my heart.

This kid. He kills me, every single day. Six and a half years ago he came screaming into our lives, and changed our world forever. Serious and solemn from the start, his wide brown eyes took everything in. Now, at 6, soon to be seven, he is serious, loving, adorable, sincere and has the wickedest sense of humour. His father tells me that Bear and


I pull the doors apart, and step out on the deck, taking the view of the valley. I lean over the side, and as I stare at the slope below, I can almost hear the laughter. In my mind, I can see my husband at the bottom, grinning and calling to a not-quite-two-year-old Bear, as Bear launches himself and runs down the hill, teetering on

waste not, want not.

; We do a fair bit of baking around here, so I tend to buy our flour in 12.5kg bags direct from a somewhat-local organic flourmill. Except this bag, I wasn’t quite as regimented at getting the leftover from the paper sack into the sealed plastic container as I normally would be. Of course, this meant prepping the pizza bases on Saturday night revealed a

mothers day 2012

I slowly peeled one eye open as a little hand tapped on my arm. “mummy!” came the stage whisper, “are you AWAKE yet?”. I think I must have been conscious enough to nod, because two little pairs of feet were flying up the hallway, and I could hear chairs being dragged, plates rattled and glasses pulled from drawers. Husband rolled out of bed with a

Holidays, at last

The last day of school is upon us. No more lunch boxes. No more uniforms. No more prodding and cajoling and pushing to get out the door. Two whole weeks of our big boy back with us. As a special treat, I let him have a lunch order for today, much to his delight. But of course, then came the tears. “I want a wunch