A single photo - no words - capturing a moment from the week.
A simple, special, extraordinary moment.
A moment I want to pause, savor and remember.
Please feel free to add your moment.
*Still unable to upload photos from my computer to Blogger and still not really getting any help. Not sure when this is going to be resolved, so I've had to use an image from a while ago. Better something than nothing, right?
If anyone has had similar issues with Blogger and has had them resolved, please share. I've tried everything and it looks like this particular problem is not going away any time soon. Bah!
I've been thinking about this post for a while now. I had lots of different nourishing things I wanted to talk about and to share with you. I have been busy doing all sorts of things and thought I could write about some of those but then I realised that I had been putting this subject off. *Sigh*
It's really hard for me to write about attachment parenting without coming up against all of my wants and needs and hopes and dreams for my children. It's hard for me to contemplate letting some of my hopes go but it's harder still to be here struggling, as I so often do, to do the right thing, but ever at my own expense. Does that sound selfish? Then I'll explain.
Right now, I am sitting in my bed at home choking my way through my fifth bout of bronchitis since last Winter. I have asthma so bad that I can't take an in or an out breath without rattling which leads to more coughing, coughing so hard it makes me gag. Coughing so hard I can't sleep. And so finally, at my husband's insistence, I started taking the cortisone that I have resisted taking in all the other episodes I've enjoyed. I started taking the damn cortisone because antibiotics were having no effect. I started taking them even though it meant abruptly interrupting my breastfeeding relationship with my wee Bear. It was not an easy decision to make but I hope that it was the right one.
The house is empty. As in, without the balls of funny, furiously active and beloved energy that are my babes. It is empty because I am worn out, completely run down (despite vitamin supplements and immunity tonics up the yin yang) and struggling to look after my babes with no voice (literally - I have laryngitis too), no energy and no patience . So my ever practical husband called in the reinforcements and his parents stepped up (as they always do - I am amazingly lucky to have the second family that I do) and the wee ones were whisked away to stay with his mum and dad for three, yes THREE, days. So that I can sleep, rest, get well, stop spreading these godawful germs around and find health, if it indeed still resides in this house of lurgy.
My little Finnamon Bun
The children and I have been consistently sick for a year now - since Finn was 2 weeks old and he got his first cold, followed swiftly by his first chest infection and his first dose of antibiotics. As each cold/infection/chesty episode went, within a week a new one was arriving. The children and I have spent more time at the doctors this year than I have at any other time in my life. I even joked to my GP that I should just camp out in his waiting room. Har bloody har.
So the house is empty and it feels... well barren actually. Devoid of life and energy. I can feel how alone I am in this big house that is normally so warm and full of them. I miss them terribly, particularly my wee bear because I keep feeling like he is so small and must not understand what is going on. Part of it is, of course, my ever present anxiety/PND/neuroses, but the other part is the loss of my connection to my babies. No little greedy face smiling up at me between drinks from his beloved boobie. No needs having to be met. No-one trotting in in the night for 'a quick snuggle' before being tucked back into her own bed. No sleepy, pink-cheeked, grumpy little face surrounded by fluffy bedhair, crying softly with eyes still closed, for cuddles, comfort and a return to sleep. Nothing. Just me and my man (even though that is always comforting) and the quiet of an empty house. And in the night I dreamt that I could hear Beanie calling out for me. "Mamma, mamma, no - I want mamma." I woke thinking that she was in the next room and was then stricken because I realised she was far away and I could not comfort her. Could not fold my tousled, long limbed, thumb-sucking, still so young, Beanie, into my arms and give her a mamma's sleepy late night kisses that let her know all is well. All is well.
Yes, she is asleep.
This is why I struggle. I struggle with the need to sometimes put myself and my needs first without feeling horrible guilt. I struggle with being with my kids and being without them. I struggle with wanting needing space and time and rest, and feeling resentful when I don't get it, the need to be there for my children when they need me to. Something has to give, doesn't it? And I've come to the, somewhat obvious, conclusion that it just doesn't always work out the way you want it to. Someone occasionally has to lose, if only for a little while, and up until now that has been me. I have consistently put myself second and have dragged myself through the days bone weary and tired beyond belief. I have done it when I have wanted to and when I would have given anything to be in a galaxy far, far away. And it has taken it's toll on me mentally and physically.
And this is where I find attachment parenting a little unyielding (and I am prepared to admit that the unyielding part may be just my interpretation of its ethos. I do set my own parenting bar very high). The co-sleeping I love right up until the part where I can't turn over because I have about a square inch of bed to myself and nowhere to put my arms, or I'm getting kicked in the back or boobs, or hit in the face by small arms and legs. Or, God forbid, there is a delicious warm sensation underneath me which suddenly and inexplicably goes cold and wet. The breastfeeding I love except where I get bitten and pinched and where I worry that I am going to affect Bear's health long term by giving him boobie milk tainted, no matter how minimally, with anti-depressants or the fact that he needs to stay attached to the boobie long, long, long after he has fallen asleep and immediately wakes up if I try to disconnect him. The carrying I love (and do a lot of ) right up to the part where my scoliosis plays up and the hip displacement joins in, just for funsies. The gentle discipline I love right up until the part where I want to tear my hair out and scream because trying to get my girl to do ANYTHING without a major meltdown is seemingly impossible, to the point where even my hubble is losing his cool and this man is second only to the Dalai Lama in terms of being peace. I love it all right up until the part where I am worn out, run down and in need of sleep and rest and peace.
Don't get me wrong. I don't intend to give any of these things up entirely. I love carrying the wee man for the most part. I love having him in bed with me and have done up until recently when I realised how much I missed being able to stretch out and not worry about accidentally walloping the wee man in the head. I sleep so lightly that its become almost impossible to have the bubs in the bed for any length of time. And you know, I want to be able to put him down in his cot and have fall into a much needed sleep, without me having to stand over him for 45 minutes. And I've noticed something interesting about this. Sometimes he'll be in my bed and restless, grizzling and turning over and over, so I scoop him up, pop him down in his cot and he goes straight to sleep. Perhaps even he needs a little space to himself now.
I guess what I'm trying to say, and what it has taken me over 4.5 years to learn, is that I have to take what works for me and leave the rest. Even if that does make me feel like a 'fake' attachment parent (and honestly, what parent isn't attached to their child?). I have to accept that in order to give them the best of me, I need to put myself and my needs first when I can. Mamma needs her body, her mind, her sleep, to herself sometimes. I need to trust that I am enough even in those areas I fail seemingly every day. Who gets it totally right? Even attachment parents who do everything by the book get things wrong. We are fallible human beings and it has taken me a lot of time and sadness to realise this. I won't be the 'perfect' mamma no matter how hard I try. I can only be me - a woman who stumbles and falls all the time, but still gets back up and tries again, tries harder. I have spent a lot of time wanting to be other people. It's probably why I studied acting. Yet, comparing myself to others never made me feel any better about being myself. It just gave me a whole other box of reasons to dislike myself and to question hate myself as a parent. I do want to get my issues under control. Of course i do. But I want to do without beating myself up all the time. I DO hold myself accountable. I DO take responsibility for myself and my actions but I don't need to exacerbate the problem with unkindness and a lack of compassion for myself. In some ways, I am still a child too. I need to put aside the fear based thoughts of what will become of my children in the future because what I have 'done to them' in the past, and trust, really trust, that their innate goodness, their own unique light, will shine no matter what. And that loving them, as deeply and as overwhelmingly as I do, will be enough. That I will be enough.
So my nest is empty and I am trying to drop into this new space and take care of myself without my thoughts consistently swinging towards my Beanie and Bear, wondering how they are, if they want to come home, if they are needing me... and concentrate on getting well. I'm not used to it. Normally I relish my time alone simply because it is so fleeting. Now I have three days of it and I don't know what to do with myself. My hubble insists that I sleep. He has told me, in no uncertain terms, that 'resting is not the same as sleeping'. I guess he doesn't get how restful crafting is for me but he's also got a point. Sleep is the one thing that has been consistently missing from my life for 4.5 years. Nourishing, deep, deep, restorative, dreamless sleep. Is that possible for me I wonder? I am so attuned to my babies sleep rhythms that I suspect that this kind of sleep may still elude me.
In my immediate future I forsee lots of expressing (not quite ready to give up feeding the wee boy yet, just while I am on nasty cortisone), knitting, sewing, napping, eating maltesers, reading, napping, watching movies, napping and then some of the aforementioned sleep.
I will leave with my sweet nourishy bites because everyone needs something cheerful at the end of a long rant.
:: watching :: Game of Thrones. If you haven't, you must. MUST. :: loving :: crafts, crafts, crafts. Oh I have discovered dry needle felting and I cannot be stopped! Show and tell next post. :: longing for:: this illness to be gone and to feel truly well again. Punching the air and leaping into the air kind of well.
:: looking forward to :: being rid of the old man 60-a-day phlegmy smokers cough, to finishing Finn's sheepy pants and starting on my 'Tea Leaves' cardigans for me and the Beanster (thanks DocWitchy!). Oh and starting on a little project for my lovely lady Sol-Y-Luna - she of the big heart and healing hands. She gave me a massage and now I am giving her something soft and warm and knitted, just for her own self.
:: heading towards :: adventure. Maine being the focus of that adventure. We are seriously looking into moving to Maine for a few years, just so that I can enjoy some snow and some time in the Northern Hemisphere, where everything makes sense to this northern girl again.
:: enjoying :: the cold, the mist, the bare trees, the occasional hail, the spare simplicity of Winter in the southern hemisphere. Audio books - fiction mainly because I have overdosed on non-fiction in recent years. It feels good to just sit back and enjoy a different kind of yarn (often with my yarn!). My creativity being stimulated by the lovely Goddess Leonie's e-courses and Goddess circle group. Don't be put off by the hippy look of the site, the woman is sharp as a tack and gives an amazing package for those creative ladies who want to delve further into their creativity or start up a new business. There is even a Goddess Circle which gives you access to support from other women and a chance to make connections. It's awesomeness. Chai, mocca lattes, Kate Bush and her wonderful album The Hounds of Love. Now that's winter in an album. The link takes you to my absolute favourite track from the album. Listen to it and you'll understand why I love it so much. ::making:: more wool roving summer fairies but this time with embellishments (piccies to come), sewing little birds for summer swaps, winter things for winter swaps and the beginnings of a daily rhythm chart for Lily, so she has some idea of what is happening next. It makes our days more peaceful if we have our path illuminated somewhat.
:: surprising myself :: not at all.
:: feeling :: weak and tired but at least I'm resting.
:: hoping for :: good health, energy and some time with good friends.
:: grateful for :: my supportive hubble and his amazing family.
And I've added a new nourishy bite -
:: just for funsies :: Funniest video on YouTube - I'm afraid that this is why people of the pagan persuasion are not often taken seriously. And where are they running to?
Not long ago, I joined a writing e-course called 'Writing Our Way Home'. It was a lovely course designed to stimulate a little writerly creativity and the support of the other group members was really lovely.
It's been over for a few months, well, two to be exact and in that time I have written zippety doo dah. In the course we were encouraged to observe something for five minutes, anything, the view outside your window, the children in the street, the changing season - whatever captures your attention and your imagination. Really looking takes practice. It's not the same as observing - that's more detached. This is about dropping into the moment and breathing it into and through you. It's about being fully present. Then you write a 'Small Stone' which is to say, a miniature poem or piece of prose like this one:
The rain a tin fingered metronome on my roof my heart and unquiet mind is lulled by the beat of natures steely tears
Or this one: His milky sleep soft weighted in my arms sweetly snoring
The idea is to write one small stone a day and to share it, if you want to, on the site. I have found that I very much enjoy writing these little 'proems' (a word I made up - see what I did? I joined poem with prose...clever, eh?) and will endeavour to write one a day. It's much like the oft mentioned fridge poetry, (using those magnetic word kits that stick to your fridge door), in that it stimulates your creativity and lets you play around with words for fun or for catharsis. I like both personally. Maybe we can call it 'funarsis.
Anyhoo, the people who run the courses (Kaspa and Fiona) have just gotten married and they requested that everyone who cared to, submit a small tone for their wedding, so that they could collate them into a big wedding book to commemorate the day. I thought this was a lovely idea and so here's what came to me:
Every moment
is a gift
Every breath
a wish
Every glance
a promise
Every touch
a union
May you always
Open into these moments
Like you do
Into a perfect kiss
See - big knickers can be sexy. It's what I keep telling my husband.
I like it. I especially like it when things come to me without any effort or time spent actually thinking about it. I simply thought of them and wrote. Stream of consciousness baby!
Anyway, I'll keep it brief for today. Suffice to say it's difficult to write a post on nourishment when one is up to ones dandruff in phlegm, with a hacking cough that could cut through wood. Oh and asthma - did I mention the asthma? That I haven't had since I was fifteen? That made its unwelcome appearance in the first of these FIVE (yes, that's what I said, FIVE) bronchial visits? That now requires a permanent use of puffers (oh, the memories of freezing school hockey pitches in England) and oh, an assortment of tonics, vitamins and, in this last bout, the abrupt breech of my breastfeeding relationship with my wee Bear while I take a three day course of fekkin' cortico-steroids, and the whisking away of aforementioned wee Bear and my Beanie-girl, while I attempt to recover. Well apparently, the one steroid makes me sleepy and, in my doctor's words, "If the baby wakes, you won't hear him." I am also not allowed to drive on them. What the? They have suggested this course of action the other four times but the fifth is the charm I suppose. I am SO over it and it's happening so often. But I really hate that I have to do it. Hate. It.
Frustrated much?
So, I'll keep my hands busy, try not to feel bereft of my babes (I do need the rest, I admit that) and attempt to free myself from the dastardly lurgy once and for all.
Oh and I completely lost my voice at the weekend. And we had visitors. And my husband had to work from home because I had to talk in a whisper. And it didn't come back. Until now. And I still sounds like a phone sex line.
"Hi, my name is Candy. What would you like me to do for you tonight..."
{this moment} - A Friday ritual inspired by Soulemamma. A single photo - no words - capturing a moment from the week. A simple, special, extraordinary moment. A moment I want to pause, savor and remember.
{this moment} - A Friday ritual inspired by Soulemamma. A single photo - no words - capturing a moment from the week. A simple, special, extraordinary moment. A moment I want to pause, savor and remember.
{this moment} - A Friday ritual inspired by Soulemamma. A single photo - no words - capturing a moment from the week. A simple, special, extraordinary moment. A moment I want to pause, savor and remember.
ARGH! Can I just have a gigantic whinge please? OK. As of today, we have ALL been ill consistently and without a break for 14 sodding weeks. 14. I am not exaggerating. I am currently hacking and wheezing my way through my THIRD chest infection (complete with flu like symptoms) and am enjoying the many and varied psychedelic effects of my third round of antibiotics. Lily is over her ear infection (and her recent fever) but is still partially deaf and snotty. Finn has just finished his second round of antibiotics (for his chest infection) and, as yet, has not caught this latest bug. Michael went away to Brisbane for work on Monday and by Monday afternoon I was in the grip of this latest delight. So over it. So not fun caring for two children, one of whom refuses to sleep for more than 20 minute stretches during the day, when all you want to do is take enough panadol to floor a rhino, and sleep. Hah! Fat chance of any of that!
Oh I do love my boy. His smiles light up my life and when he chuckles, ye Gods, it doth melt my foolish heart. Still, the little beggar makes me cross and shouty when he cries (and cries and cries and cries and cries) and nothing I do makes it better. Not picking him up, not putting him down, (heaven forbid I do that), not lying down, not sitting up in his chair, not his dummy and, drum roll please, often not even the beloved boobie. He is, at the moment and probably due to everyone's prolonged illnesses and mummies antibiotics, a grumpy little fecker!
In truth, it's sheer slog at the moment and not much of the joy of the newborn or anything else for that matter. Beanie is still in her oppositional and defiant stage and increasingly I am resorting to threats and time outs, neither of which are much fun for either of us, to get her to do ANYTHING. Still, I can see that our power struggles are only going to get worse unless I change my approach. I just don't have the energy to do it right now. Not with a sick baby and a sick mummy and absolutely no energy for anything.
If anyone has any natural remedies for viral and bacterial infections that might help us plump up our immunity and get past this, then please share. I am open to anything that might help and stop us passing it back and forth between us.
Yesterday was the worst. I started to feel increasingly ill in the afternoon and I think the antibiotics are having a very strange effect on me. I felt faint and all jittery inside, so I rang my mother-in-law and she came and cooked us a roast and took Lily off my hands, so that I could just cope with Finn. I am blessed indeed to have such a fantastic supportive family of in-laws and I was grateful for the break. However, leading up to Nanna taking Beanie to hers for the night, Beanie and i just had fight after fight after fight. When she finally left, she was subdued and I was beside myself with grief and guilt. All the hugs in the world don't feel enough after one of our spats. And I hate myself for being so easy to anger, so irritable and so impatient with my beautiful girl. When they left I broke down in tears and felt worse than I have in quite a long time. I felt PND low and seriously anxious. I phoned my mother-in-law and asked her to call me when they got home, so that I would know Beanie was safe. Always when I hit this low, I am convinced that the Gods will punish me for my many mothering sins by taking her away from me and I am anxiety ridden until she is returned to me. It's made worse by the fact that I am occasionally intuitive/precognitive in my feelings about things and events, so I never know if I'm feeling so crazy because I am, in fact, crazy or because something bad is going to happen.
I know. It's not healthy. It's not even particularly sane. But it is possible and it is because of that possibility that the fear is able to get in. The thought of losing her is... well, in all honesty, there aren't words adequate enough to describe how it makes me feel. So I did the only thing that makes me feel better at times like these. I called my hubble. He has this way of calming me down, of making me feel less like a basket-case and of making my head less frenetic and punishing. I don't envy him his task. I am not the easiest of people at the best of times, (and I do wish I was more sunny of personality but intense and feeling and anxious is the best I got, sorry), and this is certainly not the best of times. Anyway, he talked to me until it got a little quieter in there and then I slept as much as my wee boy would let me and felt slightly better this morning.
Beanie - what seems like a lifetime ago.
I live in fear of the PND returning in all it's repugnant fulsomeness. I was only just freeing myself from it's frozen grasp when I got pregnant with Finn. Now, I am watching myself and yes, there are signs. There is the anger and frustration that I am all too familiar with. Those bitter, twisted emotions that take all the colour from my life and mar the bond I have with my children. I am awash with that. Yet, I still find joy in the moments in-between and I take comfort from that. I see the soft-hearted, empathetic nature of my girl and delight (and suffer) in it, even as I see how easily it will be for those she loves to break that bright heart of hers. I see how brightly she shines with intellect and wisdom far, far beyond her years. I am awed by her spirit, her humour and her ability to make me laugh with her funny comments and actions.
And my little man? Well, it's all about the gummy grins and the little chubby thighs. And, of course, those rare chuckles that are making more of an appearance as days go by. I watch as he grows bigger and stronger by the day, despite all the sickness that has plagued his young life so far, and I delight in his daily accomplishments. Bringing his hands to his mouth, trying to swallow his entire fist, filling his nappy with great gusto and reaching out and grasping things with more ability every day. He almost rolled over today and I clapped with joy. It never gets old. It simply reminds me of how Lily did these things too, how precious they are and how quickly these times are over. I don't want to miss a thing. I don't want to look back, as I often do at footage of Beanie as a youngster, and only be able to remember the anger, the grief and the guilt and all the mistakes I made. I don't want to miss the opportunity to revel in these moments. I don't want to be that mother again. I want and need for something to change. And it has to be me. And I am trying. I have been trying. So hard and for so long. And yet here I am again. I am trying to remind myself that my 'word' for this year is 'Compassion', and show some to myself.
Cuter than any real puppy
How I long to come and write something that is jolly and bright and humourous and full of hope. I can do it. I have done it, but it all seems rather far away right now. I am sure much of it is illness but then there is a lesson in that too it would seem. Asthma after 15 years is certainly something to think about. As are three chest infections in three months. Guess where the seat of grief is in the body? Yup - lungs.
Anyway, the hubby is back late tomorrow night, so I'll hopefully be able to spend Saturday and Sunday recuperating and being gathered up into his long, warm arms for a much needed hug. This is the longest apart we have been since we met. And as someone who has spent only one week as a single mum to two kids, can I just say that I have nothing but utter respect for single parent families. I can't imagine how hard it was for my mum to raise the four of us alone as she did or for my sister to do it with six, one of whom is autistic. And on nothing. I send out a big hug to all those women (and men) who are doing this alone for whatever reason. It takes a lot of heart and a lot of courage to raise children but it's so much harder when you have no-one with whom to share the joys and the sorrows, or to just get a cuddle from at the end of the very long day. So take one, over cyber-space, from me. Cos I get it.
Me. Sick and Tired.
I need to go now. I need to sleep if I can. I only came to empty my head and my heart for a while. To make sense of the fragments all swirling madly about and to connect, if only anonymously, with those of similar heart.
May all the things that lay us low tonight, be gone by morning.
Hellooo - I'm back! It's been a while and I've been dying to come and share with you all the stuff that's been going on but I've been so busy. Being a (grumpy, sleep deprived) mum to two gorgeous bubba's is a full time job.
Firstly though, just look at my beautiful boy!
Is he not the most beautiful thing you have ever seen (own children excepted of course)... I'm so in love.
This photo was taken by my good photographer friend Laura, whose website I shall link to when it is up and running. She specialises in family portraits and pregnancy/baby photography and, as you can clearly see, she rocks. I'm lucky enough to be loved enough to get all this expertise for nothing and our Finn Photo Shoot went spectacularly well. I may not be able to resist putting up some more photies in a minute. They are ALL so splendid. We are planning on asking her to do a family shoot with all of us because it's hard to do that kind of shot for yourself.
Oh, who am I kidding, I can't wait -here's another one.
This is what he looks like most of the time, poor colicky wee thing but still, even bawling he's so cute. Mind you, we did subject him to some serious wardrobe changes (hats mainly), he's probably all hatted out here.
We have all unfortunately been sick for the past 11 weeks, with a cold that just won't go away. It developed into a nasty chest infection two weeks ago and I have had asthma for the first time in 15 years. Even more unfortunately, despite my very best efforts, poor Finn came down with it on Saturday and now has a horrible chesty cough which causes horrible gagging and sometimes projectile vomiting of his feed and conjunctivitus. We are a family plagued with ill health at the moment and I am still barking like a seal despite being on my second round of antibiotics. I'm hoping that as the weather warms up with Spring, it will take the lurgy with it and we will all be happier and breathing more easily soon.
Life with two is interesting. Tiring, frustrating, funny, time consuming and all that jazz but it's also wonderful, heart-warming and so special. I am truly grateful that these precious little souls chose me to wear out, wake up and demand from. It's hard some days and my fuse has sadly not gotten any longer, but I wouldn't have it any other way. They light up my life, they truly do.
I have also been really busy crafting. My mum taught me how to knit while she was over and I've been obsessed since then. I have just finished knitting Finn a pair of dark oak green trousers (which will no doubt finally fit him in the full burning heat of summer!) and I'm in the process of knitting him a red pixie hat. It's great. I can sit in bed and knit and talk or watch a movie or whatnot and it's so relaxing. I just love working with my hands. I've just bought a load of new wools to make another jumper for him (I knitted a trial one up out of some nasty nylon wool that I got from a charity shop and it turned out pretty good) - such wonderful colours and I'm hoping to knit him up some vintage booties with a button and a strap.
I've also been learning to sew. I have made Beanie a beautiful pinnafore dress and head scarf out of some gorgeous birdie fabric. I have some yellow polka dot fabric to make another one. I will have to take some photo's when I have the chance but our camera had pretty much died and my camera phone doesn't do them justice.
I also crafted madly right before Finn's birth (strange nesting impulse maybe?) and I made Lily a magnetic fishing game, complete with felt fishies and twig poles. I mean, I even sewed her a pond with seaweed and lily pads on it. Again, photo's later. I also made all of Finn's bunny rugs and muslin wraps and I made him a black and white striped sock monkey called Chester. He looks like a bandit, so I'm thinking of making him a little sack with $$$$ all over it. Lily keeps calling him 'Chesty' and then wondering why mummy is laughing like a drain...
Now - how exciting. I've been given an award. In fact, it's.....
A Blog With Substance Award
Who knew? I have substance. I am, of course, delighted with this award, especially as I mostly feel I write about absolutely buggar all and then only to amuse myself. So in the spirit of sharing the love...here are the rules for the award:
1.Thank the blogger that gave you the award. Thank you to the lovely wiccan permaculture guru Moonroot who has very kindly chosen my blog for this award. Ta very much lady! May your chickens be ever plump producers of large happy eggs.
2.Sum up your blogging philosophy, motivation, experience, using 5 words. Oh dear Lord. Me, limited to five words? Be Honest, Laugh At Yourself
3.Pass the award on to 5 fabulous bloggers with substance. I'm happy to bestow this award (in no particular order) on the following fabulous blogs which always have something worth saying, and say it well:
Well now this bit is hard. Two of the blogs I love have been privatised, so I can't nominate them. One of the blogs I would nominate has just (sadly) quit the blogosphere, so I am a bit limited.
Bluebirdbaby continues to be inspirational to me and Erin always has something to say and a beautiful way of saying it. Her blog that puts a spring in your step and a light in your heart. Check her out.
Holistic Mamma is awesome. Always insightful and very often her posts are written just for me. (Well, that's what it feels like). Check her out for some intelligent, thoughtful and sweet posts.
Mamma Moontime is all lovely Steiner/Waldorf inspired and there are lots of creative, wonderful ideas for play with your wee ones.
The Magic Onions is a place where people like me can find inspiration for raising children and for inspiring children and for playing with children. Me likey.
Rhythm Of The Home is a warm and friendly place full of all manner of goodly things.
