Sunday evening thoughts

I'm pretending I've sat calmly watching the evening sun warm my jars of spices, until the sky turned gold and then black. I imagine I pulled on thick socks as the air cooled. I would have embraced the stillness and quiet, sipping a cup of something warm and thinking how nice it was to listen to the sounds of the world outside.

But rather I stood in the middle of the kids room, rocking and singing, over an over. He's more unsettled than I've ever seen him, 'new teeth' I wonder. I stop a few times for him to have one more feed, sat at the end of Queenie's bed. She stirs and asks me to stroke her tummy. I oblige, balancing him on my knee. I whisper a love song to the pair of them. I'm exhausted right down to my very core, and it dull aches every part of me. 

At one point of my evening, while giving Jarvis some teething pearls and sips of water, I looked out our bedroom window and to the river, silver in the last seconds of daylight. That moment was enough beauty to have me grinning, grateful to God for showing me that sight. It energised me to keep going through the heartache of bedtimes alone.


I enjoyed reading sunshine & roses this morning.

11.4.2015

Jarvis is one. A switch flicked and it dawned on me that he had been in our lives a year. The automatic reaction was to think, oh my goodness, how has this time last so quickly? But then I sit back and realise I don't actually mean that. Honestly, I think what, is that it? Was there ever life before him? He feels as though his little bald head and gappy teethed giggle has always been a part of my day. I struggle to remember a time where he didn't disturb our sleep and when his soft, round body not be the first thing I hold in the morning. 

We love this boy. A new love blossomed a year ago when I birthed him. I was struck by how deep I fell for him. The bond between mother and son was different to that of my love for Queenie. Not more, just different, maybe... soppier? I was able to see that this is the way Liam had been with her. He always calls and searches for me when he is in need, yet she will always ask for her daddy. 

He is funny and silly, proudly strutting around the house. He hides in his hands and gives the sloppiest of kisses. He loves guitars and clapping and watching Queenie dance. He's also got a bit of an obsession with her collection of baskets and her little wooden broom. He doesn't eat much at the moment, but will never refuse blueberries of frozen peas. He knows love and how to love, fiercely he dotes on his Queenie. Our Jarvis Oak.
In the evening we visited Roskilly's where we fed piglets, goats and chickens, oggled at calves and prancing lambs and watched the beautiful cows being milked. We gorged on delicious ice creams before ending the day eating stone baked pizzas in Coverack harbour. It was summery and totally perfect. He ended the day screaming with teething pains and cried himself to sleep on the journey home, a true sign to any good party!

We celebrated his birthday with pancakes and presents in bed. Queenie had requested she had bought him a present. Earlier in the week, I'd pulled down her money box, filled with coins she had collected and gathered and popped them in her purse. Her first shopping trip, and an important one, showing her the value and blessing that comes with giving what you have. She picked a leather coin purse in the shape of a fish, and a hand felted chicken. She wrapped them herself, the sweetest of gifts.

Reading

Learning to share is an ongoing process.

Once a week we walk to the library and get a bundle of new books, storys for Queenie, a few board ones for Jarvis and I like to pick out a cookery or gardening book to flick through during a quiet tea break.

In the mornings, we pull open the blind and read in bed. Jarvis pours over board books while I just snooze. Queenie joins us at some point with sleepy eyes and an armful of library books, her hair fluffy. I made a decision that instead of turning on my phone or just slobbing out, I would use this time to get back into reading too. And oh my, it's blissful. 

Some nights I fall asleep reading, then next morning try and find at which part I'd slipped away. I am quickly working through People Of The Book, a beautiful story I started last summer then found it hard to keep reading once the holiday was over. It feels wonderfully indulgent to lie in a crisp bed, losing myself in a story. These small pleasures can start a day right.

Snippets of our new house

One month of calling this house our home.

Surrounding ourself with family and memories. Tiny trinkets gathered over the last six years are given little spaces to dwell.

The move

This sweet trio wave us off as we leave to collect the keys of the new home, car laden with house plants / Plants in, keys collected, and admiring the wooden floors / A quiet moment after the chaotic move.

Thoughts on a move from a journal page, reread a week later:

I lie in bed tucked up beside me is a sleeping boy, lips pouted, eyes flickering with dreams. As I watch him, I am happy. 
We are here. After four days of tiresome, unrelenting hard work, we are in our new home in Falmouth. I can hear Queenie's feet pattering up and down the stairs outside as she plays with her grandma. Liam left for work not long after the sun came up, I'd been downstairs to wave him off on his first day, then crept back up with toasted hot crust bun and orange juice. 

He stirs a little, rolling over in the big bed. I'm struck by his peacefulness, the calm After the storm.

The move was difficult. I had a week of chronic toothache resulting in having my wisdom tooth pulled out on Monday. The children still weren't completely well and the confusion of moving house wobbled them both back into sickness. Queenie resented having to return to the old house to clean up, so thrilled that we have moved to beautiful Fal.
Together we keep running to the window to see the river and boats out the window, as if checking we didn't imagine the glorious view.
While chattering away to my mum she says "when it's dark and the moons out, and we look out the window. The boats have lights on them." I think how her speech has improved and how she is going to grow in this new home. 

Jarvis is awake now, he clumsily crawls over to me for a kiss and I have to be quick before he bites my lip. The day had begun and there is so much to do. 

A change

11 . 2 . 15

This morning.
We are incredibly languid for the state we are in. Hardly packed and moving in just over a week. The cold makes us lie in late, pouring over books and cuddling. We procrastinate,  holding no confidence in ourselves, how are we ever going to do it, get everything ready in time to move?

I eventually crawl out of bed and pull on as many clothes as I can bear. While Liam reads the babies stories, I decide to tackle the unusual paraphernalia found on our bedroom windowsill. Football trophies, wooden pots of jewellery I detest but can't bear to part with JUST incase Queenie wants them to adorn future costumes. Then perched among the dusty books, I find this old friend. A bird I most likely illegally acquired while in college, he's travelled with us from house to house. It breaks my heart to say he won't join us on our move onto the next one. His eyes have shrivelled, his beaks yellowed, foot broken, the tail is hanging on by a thread, and his feathers are laying about the windowsill. He is irrefutably disgusting, and Liam has decided its time for goodbye. Bitterly, I agree.

When we do finally get round to packing, the children unpack as we turn our backs. We stop far too often for coffee and food breaks. We run out of boxes and realise the packing tape has also gone. We really are the worst at moving house. As we 'work', my thoughts go back to this funny old bird, I persuade myself to delve him out of the rubbish, I could do this or that to restore him, or work this and he would remain the current state, no longer slipping into disrepair (ok, lets face it, he's reached that, but my mind won't stop battling).

A little later into the afternoon, as if wound up by little keys slotting into gaps in our spines, we have a flurry of energy, of activity, finally it feels like we are making progress. We wrap and pack, tidy and let go, boxes pile up in the hallway. The rooms feel bare. Queenie's a caged animal, turned stir crazy among cardboard, her singing echoes in the empty spaces we have previously called home. Jarvis sleeps unbelievably long into the early evening and I begin to cook soup, distracted with more purging I could do to unused, dusty cooking items.

Chanted loudly in our every being is a new phrase, 'We can do it.'

January

Snippets of the year so far: A white shelf, reflecting a brief snowfall this week / He cheers me up while I fold endless washing / Capturing this home before we begin packing / Little boxes packed with her favourite things

It's early January
We write promises, plans and dreams, talk about our hopes for the following year. Little things, big things, things that are scary and a few treats for good measure.

Within a few weeks our biggest came to fruition. God planted the beautiful town of Falmouth as a seed in our hearts years ago, before our marriage had begun. He's been watering it, the love for that place growing, and with it so had we. The wait has been tough, our hearts have ached and we have wept but we see now, as always Gods timing was perfect. And finally, our time is now. With a big sigh of relief we smile, and feel as if we are going home. In just over two weeks we will be loading up cars and a van with boxes, bags, (and at this rate) pillow cases stuffed with our possessions to embark on the next adventure our little family will share.
Last month flew by and then the first six days of this have also. Its been exhausting and tough and all we've wanted to do is take a long trip to a warmer place! But to have this on our horizon is a joy, a weight is lifted from our shoulders, a hope at the end of the exhuastion of day to day jobs and the cold weather and everything else that leaves us feeling sour and blue at this time of year. 


This post on the ever inspiring blog, the Ma Books hit me and encouraged me at a day I couldn't have needed it more.

More sunlight

Finally, we have a computer again (a christmas present to ourselves). I have big dreams for this space next year, but for now some lazy photographs from Christmas. Family portraits. Forever lounging around, basking in the glow of sunny spots.

Evening light

My true loves playing, lit in the evening sun.

What a joy to have Liam home early from work on Tuesday.
We sit and play, talking about our day, Queenie providing us with plates of pancakes, soup and plenty of tea. She sure loves this kitchen and uses it much more than any other toy. We are taking note of what she actually spends time playing with and being mindful of that when buying her and Jarvis their christmas presents this year.

I forgot where we were

A print by Eilidh Gordon, bought at Indias degree show in August. / An unfinished drawing of the all-encasing night sky.

An Ode to Ben Howard's second album.

We drive through the dark, all is still and the music plays, those deep and mystical tones of 'I Forgot Where We Were'.

We stop so I can feed the boy who stirs with a mix of hunger and teething pains. The music plays on and outside is crisp and as black as pitch. And in the blackness, scattered so densely, are the stars. Never have there felt so many. Liam hears queenie wake and wraps her up tight in a duvet before pulling her out to share this moment with him. Together they are lit by a passing car, looking up at this low incasing sky.
"Let me show you something. Look up, see the sky. Look at all those beautiful stars."
"We go to sleep on those stars."
The music still plays on and she holds him tighter.
"We go home now."
"Yeah" he replies and slips her back into her seat.

Back on the road we restart the track, soothing Jarvis' tears into slumber.
This beautiful drive where few words are spoken but after a long and draining week we are drawn back together in the silence. By music, nature and the shared love of two babies, our babies, so perfect and content in their unconscious state.

"Found sorrow 
in my mind most times 
gave it all back to the life i led
but since times changed
it all rolls away
I've got a woman at home
she treats me well"

Emotions are heavy, we are greiving and have just left a week of loving family. This music enchants, soothes and relinquishes us from discussion, so we can rest our weary brains.

I slip into slumber, praying to be a woman that treats him well.


A journey between the stars, October 2014.

Josh and India

Setting up the wedding reception and picking the flowers

 The few pictures I remembered to take during my sisters wedding day.

Oh blimey. We made it through the long, busy-yet-beautiful summer and hit hard into autumn. This cooler season has come at a perfect time. Our bodies and brains are exhausted and we are crashing into hibernation mode, surrendering to our aching bones. I've spent a few days rejigging bedrooms to be more comfortable and spacious, as these are the spaces we tend to all be in on a chilled afternoon at home. All snuggled into our bed with piles of books, or building blanket forts with Queenie in her room, before collapsing underneath them with stickers, pens and paper.
Thick socks and multiple layers are a must as well as the hearty meals cooking on the stove. Root vegetables and pulses are soaked in rich spices and piled high on brown rice. Food is voluptuous and helpings are generous. Every last morsel soaked up with bread, we are like wild things, famished. But why so weary, why so utterly spent?

I'm not completely sure. I know the change of any season takes it's toll, and perhaps that from summer to autumn the worst of all. Our summer months were hectic and flew by like a blink, then September was fit to burst. We celebrated three of the best couples coming together in love, in Saturday after Saturday after Saturday. The weddings were all so unique and special. The second was my sister India marrying one of our closest friends, Josh. Liam was best man and Queenie and I bridesmaids. It was an incredible wedding that we'd all worked so hard for and it was absolutely perfect. We ate fantastic food and we danced to a band of old boys playing jazz until the bride and groom waved goodbye and drove away to the hazy world of marital bliss. Liam and I looked upon the love birds and wept with genuine love, happiness and excitement.

And the next day we crashed and wept again with exhaustion.