A SAFE MOORING

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Things my mother has taught me, Vol. 2

1. The importance of giving excellent presents. 2. That you should always try to finish what you've started, but sometimes it's okay to say fuck it, life's too short. 3. That love will wrap you up like a soft blanket and keep you warm, even when it's dark and cold and your baby won't sleep and everything is horrible and you just want your mum and she's not there. 4. The importance of giving excellent cuddles.

5. That ducks go quack, and cows go moo, and how to be gentle and why you probably shouldn't eat things you find on the ground in the park. I had no idea how many things she'd taught me, until I had to start teaching them to somebody else. Thanks, Mum. Happy birthday. We think about you every day. (see also Things my mother has taught me, Vol. 1) Second image by Lauren McGlynn via Blogger http://ift.tt/1OhnUgq http://ift.tt/1OhnUgm

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Happy Friday

It's BABY GOATS. In PYJAMAS. You're welcome. via Blogger http://ift.tt/1QSMUBt http://ift.tt/eA8V8J

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Then and Now

Last year I talked about black humor and the impact of the    common market on the European economy and Threw clever little cocktail parties in our discerningly    eclectic living room With the Spanish rug and the hand-carved Chinese chest   and the lucite chairs and Was occasionally hungered after by highly placed men in    communications, but This year we have a nice baby And pablum drying on our Spanish rug, And I talk about nursing versus sterilization While the men in communications Hunger elsewhere. Excerpt from 'Nice Baby' by Judith Viorst, from her poetry collection 'It's Hard to be Hip Over Thirty and Other Tragedies of Married Life'  (1968) A couple of years ago, I was in London for work and treated myself to a weekend of solo wandering afterwards. I bought this slim volume of poetry from Persephone Books and devoured it as I sat on the sunny steps of St. Paul's, waiting for evensong. I can't say I've experienced much hungering from men in communications, but sitting in the sunshine and reading for pleasure, uninterrupted, was very nice indeed. Not quite as nice as my baby, on balance, but still.

In related news, this week my maternity leave ended and I waltzed back into the office like I owned the place. There were only two differences between this badass Peggy Olson gif and my first day back: 1. The dark circles under my eyes were due not to a heady mixture of vermouth and rollerskates, but rather to a teething, insane, sleep-hating ten-month-old; and 2. Instead of a Japanese painting of an octopus pleasuring a woman, I carried a mug proclaiming myself to be the World's Okayest Mum. But other than that, it was basically exactly the same. Images: 1. Vagaries of Fashion shot by Miles Aldridge for Vogue Italia, September 2007 2. Badass Peggy Olson via Esquire. What are people watching now that Mad Men is over? I feel slightly bereft. But that might be because I'm just missing my nice baby. via Blogger http://ift.tt/1dO2ZXK http://ift.tt/1Fwg2CZ

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A Clean Page

Well hello there, new blog design. Don't you look... pink. And simple. And not sparkly. I was extremely fond of the old design. It was a real labour of love for me, but it was also more than two years old, and times they have a-changed. For starters, the template I used wasn't mobile-friendly, so I had to resort to Blogger's default mobile option and that thing is U-G-L-Y. With more than half of you now using a mobile device to visit the blog, this really matters. As for the design itself, well, it was quirky and "handmade" and glittery and oh so 2013. It really was time for an update. It's about more than just aesthetics, though. Honestly, when I launched the last redesign, the whole thing was geared towards some arty, writer-y, lawyer-slash-stylist persona that all fell completely to pieces when my mum's health went downhill. I'm just not in a glittery mood these days, and my "portfolio" was a big bag of nothing. In short, the blog needed a change. So I changed it. Boom.

I've streamlined things a bit; hopefully it should be pretty intuitive to navigate. Most things are still there, but might be in different places. The chronological archive is now in a separate page, while the option to subscribe to receive new posts by email has moved to the sidebar (underneath this post if you're reading on your phone). There's a fancy new slider thing on the homepage that highlights a mixture of recent posts and some of my rotating favourites. I'll probably bring the portfolio back in some shape or form - there's plenty of stuff I'm proud of, and perhaps as I figure out this mothering thing I'll have more space in my life for being creative again - but for now it's taking a break.

Don't worry though! I haven't completely given up on cringe-worthy self-promotion! I started a Facebook page for the blog, which you must all like immediately so that I'm not just talking to myself over there. I'm planning on taking a leaf out of Offbeat Families' book and shamelessly plundering my four years' worth of archives to share stuff that's relevant, not just stuff that's recent. I promise I'll try to make it interesting and current and not totally lame. Same goes for the blog, actually. Some reassurance for the change-averse: the instant happiness button remains intact (it's basically a public service at this point) and the glittery gold anchor is still hiding somewhere. Because who wants to live in a world without glitter?

SEE ALSO:

→ Someone had to tell my blog her outfit just wasn't working. And that person was me.

→ Three ways to jazz up your blog → Three small steps to blogging happiness → An unhealthy amount of web design inspiration and resources

Images via Stationery Compositions (essential viewing for my fellow stationery dorks)

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Help

I think I might be about to spend a small fortune on tiny beautiful baby shoes for a baby who can't even crawl yet. Someone should probably stop me. Except don't even try to stop me because DO YOU SEE HOW BEAUTIFUL AND TINY?? Also Prince George totally wore those navy ones and if they're good enough for him, well...

SEE ALSO:

→ Can you believe I've only written 17 posts about shoes? Slacker. Must do better.

→ Remember knit-your-own-military-dictator-slash-Prince-Harry? Those were the days. → And remember that time that I totally predicted what Kate Middleton's wedding dress would look like? Can you tell I've been having a walk down blog archive lane? Do you care? (Don't answer that.)

All shoes from Children Salon.

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Bad Friday

Friday marked one year since my mum died. (When I mentioned the anniversary of her death would fall on Good Friday, Fin's comment was, "She's in good company." Indeed. Not going to hold my breath for a similar outcome, though.) A year. How is that possible? It seems absurd. And yet, it was also a year ago this week that I told you all I was pregnant, and I only need to look at the squirming, rolling, babbling little creature in front of me to know that time has, in fact, passed. Funny how it does that. The day itself was okay. I've found that significant dates - her birthday, Christmas, Mother's Day - have been relatively painless, all things considered. Perhaps because I brace myself for weeks in advance, school myself to be strong, get through it, self-medicate with extra baby cuddles. New Year's Eve was hard, harder than Christmas. Didn't see that one coming. But really it's the random moments that get you. The moments when you're sitting in the John Lewis café and glance across to see another young mum with a new baby, about your age, sharing a scone and a laugh with her own mother and suddenly you're crying and pretending you're not and cursing your own stupidity for leaving yourself exposed, for thinking you're safe, you're okay, you're coping, you're fine. Damn you, John Lewis café, damn you and your overpriced scones. This year hasn't been all sadness and breakdowns over scones, though. Far from it. So here's an egg wearing a flower crown, because why the hell not. Now I'm going to go and eat an entire Cadburys Wispa egg AND two whole Wispa bars for breakfast and it will be physically impossible to feel anything but joy. And mildly sick. Happy Easter, you wonderful people.

SEE ALSO:

→ What I wrote a year ago

→ The funniest thing anyone's ever written about Easter (not by me, I hasten to add)

→ Easter in ten words

Image: Flax and Twine

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Dear Everyone Involved In This Photoshoot

The American fashion retailer Aritzia has cropped up a few times lately, both on the few fashion blogs I still occasionally read and in the wardrobes of some transatlantic online friends, so naturally I thought I'd check it out. Turns out everyone forgot to mention that it caters exclusively to the zombie-apocalypse-circa-1993 demographic! Whoops!

I mean, WHAT IS THIS POSE?? What was going through the heads of everyone on set that day? "Wonderful, darling, now look into the camera and really feel the deadly infection seeping through your veins. Great, and just roll up your cuff a bit so we can see the teeth marks. Perfect."

And don't even get me started on the orthopaedic bandage-sandals this one's wearing. Frankly I think I'd rather surrender my soul to an eternity of dead-eyed cannibalism than walk around in public wearing those.

Next time, maybe the models could just, I don't know, stand normally? Maybe smile a bit? Like normal people? You know, those people who buy the clothes? Just a suggestion. Another suggestion, free of charge: destroy that sleeveless cropped denim jacket. In fact, destroy all sleeveless cropped denim jackets in existence. They probably aren't the source of a deadly killer zombie virus, but they certainly are hideous, and you can never be too careful. Love, Person Who Spends Way Too Much Time Online Window Shopping

SEE ALSO:

→ The trouble with Pinterest

→ "There's no time like the present to start wearing wetsuit-inspired dresses"?!?

→ An oldie but a goodie: Dear People Who Run Topshop

All images via Aritzia.

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Nobody else but you.

Sad, but true.

Card, which I did not get for Fin because POSTAGE, by Emily McDowell; see more of my favourites here.

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A last-minute Valentine's DIY for horrible people.

If, like me, you have failed to prepare for Valentine's Day in any way and feel kind of guilty about it, but not guilty enough to leave the house, this is the DIY for you. Make your loved one laugh/cry/recoil in horror with your very own Valentine's version of Cards Against Humanity. (Cards Against Humanity, for those who have not yet had the pleasure, is a card game where the goal is to be as funny as possible. Bonus points for being profoundly offensive. In a nutshell, there are black cards containing a question or phrase with part left blank, and your job is to complete the blank by choosing from your selection of white answer cards. The goal is to give the funniest answer. It is much more fun than it sounds. You can buy a proper version or download it for free, as well as get a better explanation of what the hell I'm talking about, on their site.)

So! Now that you all know what I'm talking about, here's the romantic DIY part. Using this awesome Cards Against Humanity custom card generator, I made a set of romantic question cards to pair with the existing answer cards. All you need to do is print them off and share them with the object of your affection! You could choose specific answer cards for each question and tuck them inside a traditional Valentine's card, or initiate a little two-person game of Cards Against Humanity (I'm sure you could come up with an appropriate prize for the winner).

Remember you can download the original Cards Against Humanity here (including a UK edition), or if you want to make it even more personal, create your own answer cards. If you want to use the question cards I made, you can download them by clicking the link below. They are entirely free to use. Knock yourselves out.

And one more because I just can't help myself.

MORE HOW-TO POSTS:

→ How to get people to like you

→ How to make invisible business cards

→ How to tell the internet you're pregnant without being a dick

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Happy Blogiversawhatever

I've had this blog for FOUR YEARS, you guys. Four. Years. Note how I didn't say "I've been blogging for four years," because, well, I haven't exactly been churning out the posts of late, but still. If my dwindling annual post count is anything to go by, you can expect at least eight posts this year! Might even get up into double figures! Anything could happen! Because anniversaries make me nostalgic, I've been reflecting a little bit on the highs and lows of these four years of blogging. There have been moments - when I redesigned the blog to include a portfolio (gag), or that time I ran A Practical Wedding, or when I blogged every day for a whole month - when it seemed anything was possible. I was like Miss Jamaica up there, all sparkly and fabulous and LOOK AT MY FUCKING GIANT FEATHERY HAT. Other times, not so much. I've had to squeeze posts out, one sorry word at a time, between long bouts of silence. Every word tasted sour on my tongue. I found myself wondering why I was still doing this, who I was doing it for, whether I could make a graceful exit without anybody noticing. In short, everything that is going through Miss France's head in this picture.

I feel you, Miss France. Sometimes it seems like everyone else is wearing feathers and sparkles and there you are in your sad little mushroom hat and polyester bridal gown, and all you can do is put a bow on it and try not to focus too much on the fact that you're representing the nation that gave us Coco Chanel. Well, ok, I haven't experienced that exact situation, but I can tell from your terrifying stare that it's not good. I think I'm at my happiest blogging somewhere in the middle. No pressure or expectations, but still writing enough to keep up a little bit of momentum. Queen of my own little universe, not trying to impress anyone but myself. Feathers and sparkles, but the understated kind.

Ladies and (who am I kidding) ladies, I give you Miss Malaysia. CLASSY AS BALLS. From now on, this blog will be the digital equivalent of... whatever this is. Annnnnnd, since normal people seem to blog about normal life shit instead of weird Miss Universe blogging metaphors, I feel compelled to tell you that I'm going on a ski holiday tomorrow! With a baby! Because I'm crazy (but not as crazy as Miss France)! Where are we going, I hear you ask?

"I'm NEUTRAL. Here's my flag. Deal with it."

SEE ALSO:

→ 24 January 2011 → 24 January 2012 → 24 January 2013 → 24 January 2014

Images of Miss Universe 2015 via Go Fug Yourself, whose commentary completely cracked me up. Highly recommend.

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POINTLESS PURCHASES FOR BABIES, PART 1 OF 10,362

Never mind jumpers for dogs, how about a SNOOD for a BABY??? I mean, I've got one (Exhibit A), Smidgen's got one (Exhibit B), so it only seems right that Flora should have one too, no? When I was wee my favourite thing to do, besides reading, was dressing my dolls up in different outfits and parading them about. It has only just occurred to me that I will spend the next 10 years, AT LEAST, picking outfits for my child. I'm not saying she's basically just a human doll, but I'm not not saying that... Baby knit snood, £7.99, Zara. Money well spent, I think you'll agree.

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All I want for Christmas

I saw this Christmas present formula on Pinterest somewhere and it immediately struck me as being so obviously brilliant (subject to the addition of a chocolate orange, of course). As we enter our first festive season with a wee one of our own, and attempt to resist the pressure to spend spend spend, this simple guide seems eminently sensible. Fin and I are going to have a go at sticking to it for each other and for Flora. As she gets bigger there will be a stocking from Santa, and I'm sure her doting aunties, uncles and grandparents will leave a toy or two under the tree, but it seems like a good place to start. We shall see. Last year's gift guide was a big hit, mainly among the various relatives who are obliged to buy me presents, so in response to popular (okay, paternal) demand, here are some bits and bobs that I wouldn't mind finding under the tree this year.

It took me forever to come up with this list. After two months of living with a capsule wardrobe I've forgotten how to shop, and after four months of living with a demanding infant I don't want anything more than hours of uninterrupted sleep. However, I managed to force myself to think of some little treats that would make me happy, but that I can't justify buying for myself (this is my gift-giving sweet spot). The final selection gives you an insight into my ideal activities for the next few weeks: sitting on the couch, wearing cosy slippers (1), luxuriating in the scent of a fancy Christmassy candle (4) and eating nibbles from a posh bowl (3) because everyone knows nibbles taste better from a posh bowl. If I'm not holding the baby for ten hours straight in an attempt to make her sleep (which is why I'll need some bronzer that makes me look less like a sleep-deprived corpse, 6), I'll be knitting myself yet another snood (5) or, more likely, writing the seven thousand thank you cards I have yet to write because I don't know where anyone lives, hence the need for an old school pen-and-paper address book (2).

The word "need" is subjective, obviously. These could quite easily fall under "wants," but I couldn't have a blank picture, so. We have a family trip to the mountains coming up in January (insert simultaneous "yay!" and "yikes!"), my ski goggles are falling to pieces and I'd love a decent pair (1). My winter pyjamas (which are also my autumn, spring and occasionally summer pyjamas) are similarly in quite an embarrassing state of disrepair, so some new cotton bottoms and feeding-friendly tops would be most welcome (2). I adore Inaluxe prints, but our walls are already covered in pictures and they definitely don't count as a "need." A calendar (3), on the other hand, is fairly essential for making sure baby massage doesn't clash with baby swimming (what has happened to my liiiiife?). As for the toothbrush, well. Every year, my mum popped a toothbrush in our stockings, and it seems like a wise tradition to maintain, for reasons of nostalgia as well as dental hygiene. An electric one (4) would be nice, but if we're talking needs rather than wants, manpower is good enough for me.

It's at this point that I realise how many of the things in this year's post were also in last year's post. Mittens (1), a tartan scarf (2), Tocca Cleopatra (3). Oh well, try try again, eh? This jumper (4) may be the answer to my sequins conundrum: comfy, inexpensive, sparkly but not too "Christmas." Oh and Zoë Ball wore it on It Takes Two, which makes it a million times more desirable. Jewellery that is outside the reach of tiny grasping fingers is also high on my list; bonus points for matching my blog's colour scheme (5).

I love getting new books that I haven't heard of and I'm not fussy, so these are very much just an indication of where my brain is at, namely how not to ruin your child (1), broody Scottish murder mysteries (2), ambitious craft plans that I will probably never finish (3), NEW BOOK BY RAINBOW ROWELL! (4), NEW BOOK BY AMY POEHLER!!!!! (5), poems about dogs (6). Yup, that about sums it up.

Enough said.

SEE ALSO:

→ Last year's letter to Santa

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And in non-canine fashion news

This is the first time in many years that I have no need of a sparkly new festive outfit, and I'm struggling to come to terms with it. I absolutely love the first part of winter, when everything is anticipation. The first snow, Christmas, my birthday, maybe a ski holiday: my excitement for each milestone trembles in the air like an early frost, and clothes are a big part of it. Dusting off my winter coat, pulling cosy jumpers out of boxes like slightly bedraggled rabbits, slipping my hands into snug leather gloves, willing it to get cold. And above all, sequins and glitter. Maybe it harks back to a wise man offering gold to a tiny baby, or maybe Marks and Spencer have just done a spectacular marketing job on me, but something about this time of year makes me yearn for magic and sparkle. A new dress for Christmas parties, nails painted dark, a sleek pair of heels that are entirely inappropriate for the climate. Is it really too much to ask? This year, unfortunately, it is. I have no parties to go to - maternity leave has bumped me off the guest list for my work do, and most of my formerly party-loving friends are now boring baby drones too - and even if I did, I couldn't justify the expense (maternity leave has also bumped me off the payroll, or may as well have).

In fact, I'm not buying any new clothes, sparkly or otherwise, for a while. Inspired by Rebecca, I've jumped on the capsule wardrobe bandwagon. It's quite a crowded bandwagon, but we're all travelling light and in impeccable style. Back at the beginning of October, I carried out an honest assessment of my lifestyle right now and the clothes that will realistically be useful and relevant at this stage in the game. In: jazzy leggings, non-grabbable jewellery, machine-washable knitwear. Out: sequins, statement heels, brushing my hair. Despite the lack of glitter, I have secretly been enjoying the whole capsule wardrobe experiment. For those who are unfamiliar with the concept, the idea is to select a limited number of pieces of clothing, shoes and outerwear and wear only these for an entire season (a season is three months, not that anyone's told the Scottish weather that). Then when the next season starts, you can mix up your selection, add new things, take some out, so that you don't get completely bored and want to set your wardrobe on fire. That's the theory, anyway. Blogs like Un-Fancy and Into Mind go into the whole thing in much more depth, if you feel like reading up. I went into the experiment with three goals. 1) Wear clothes that I actually like instead of just whatever I happen to find in the back of a drawer. 2) Get dressed quickly in the morning without having to think about it. 3) Cut down on washing by wearing the same small selection over and over instead of just working my way down to the absolute dregs and letting everything pile up until I want to cry at the sight of my washing basket. So far, I'd say I've been moderately successful in all three. When the next season rolls around (hello, January) I'll probably aim for a bit more variety, so that my outfits don't get too repetitive, but in general I've enjoyed getting dressed in the morning ten times more. The very fact that I've been getting dressed in the morning at all, despite having a reasonable chance of being dribbled on by a tiny person within ten minutes of getting up, probably says more than anything else. All I need are some sparkly pyjamas, and I'll be all set. Images: 1. Natasha Poly by Mario Testino for Vogue Paris October 2014, via Visual Optimism 2. Miranda Kerr for Marie Claire Australia October 2012

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GIVE ME ONE GOOD REASON...

...why I shouldn't buy Smidgen this jumper for her birthday. I mean, LOOK AT IT. And you know Smidgen would wear it better than some terrier.

Whatever, Buster. You're no sighthound, and you know it. There are, actually, a few good reasons why I shouldn't buy Smidgen this jumper for her birthday. 1) It's £46. 2) It's £46. 3) She will almost definitely roll around in the rotting carcass of a seagull within minutes of putting it on. Even if we're inside. She ALWAYS FINDS A WAY. 4) It's £46. But hey, a girl can dream. And anyway, it had been far too long since we had a dog wearing clothes around here. Did anyone see any good doggy Halloween costumes this year? Remember these guys? Never not funny.

SEE ALSO:

→ Smidgen's second birthday(ish)

→ Smidgen's third birthday (in which she wears a hat)

→ Smidgen's fourth birthday plus a lot of random facts.

Images via Houndworthy

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Burning Questions

Here is a picture of my face, to prove I'm still alive. It was taken at my sister-in-law's wedding, just eight days after the baby was born. An hour later, I found myself sitting topless behind a filing cabinet in a sweltering catering office, breast pump in one hand, glass of champagne in the other, trying to avoid flashing my in-laws through the window. Motherhood is so glamorous, you guys. Since then, in case you were wondering, I've chopped all my hair off again, thus definitively answering the 'pixie or bob?' question. At least for now. I was reading through my blog the other day, as one does, and it seems I have a bad habit of leaving questions unanswered. Fascinating questions, such as which nappy bag did I eventually get? (This one.) Did I ever finish the wee grey hat? (Yes!) Did I ever learn the Marseillaise? (No.) Which coat did I buy? (This one, and I'm very excited about the cold weather returning so that I can throw it on over my leggings-and-baby-dribble uniform and feel vaguely stylish again.) What's the baby's name, for God's sake? (It's Flora, but she's better known in our house as Bumps McGumps. Don't ask.) Now that I'm on a roll, here are some more fascinating questions about myself that I'm going to answer, lifted from this post by the wonderful Moz. I know you're all sitting there breathlessly anticipating some mundane facts about my life, so here we go.

Question 1: How tall are you?

5'8". Shorter when I'm sitting down.

Question 2: Do you have a hidden talent? If so, what?

My family will mock me for this, since I'm a famously untidy person, but I'm actually a very efficient tidier-up. I can turn a messy room into a reasonably presentable one in the time between someone ringing our buzzer and arriving at our front door (and have done. Often. Just don't look under the couch).

Question 3: What’s your biggest blog-related pet peeve?

There is no excuse for bad grammar.

Question 4: What’s your biggest non-blog-related pet peeve?

THERE IS NO EXCUSE FOR BAD GRAMMAR.

Question 5: What’s your favourite song?

It varies. As I have previously confessed, I tend to become fixated on one or two songs and play them to death, then heartlessly move on. Currently getting the listen-to-death treatment: I Will by the Beatles for simplicity and sweetness; It's a Wonderful Life by Black for an 80s-style pep talk at 2am; and Ye Cannae Shove Yer Granny Off a Bus for keeping madam entertained.

(Hover over for direct links)

Question 6: What’s your favourite Etsy shop that isn’t yours?

Asking me to choose my favourite Etsy shop is like asking me to choose my favourite child: EASY. It's this Canadian handmade bag shop. Or, hmm, maybe it's this Israeli jeweller. Ooh, but I also love these smiling cloud cushions. And I've already told you about this vintage bookseller, and the f*ing great Emily McDowell. Choosing my favourite child is actually much easier than this.

Question 7: What’s your favourite way to spend your free time when you’re alone?

HA. Free time, alone? Please. But in theory: sleeping, watching Scandal, showering, in order of preference. Pre-baby, I've always been a fan of trying on outfits for imaginary events until every item of clothing I own is scattered across the bed and I'm thoroughly sick of the sight of my own face. Fun times.

Question 8: What’s your favourite junk food?

Burger King large cheeseburger meal, no pickles (so they have to make it fresh for me), Diet Coke, preferably drive through so I don't even have to get off my FAT ASS. Yesssssssss.

Question 9: Do you have a pet or pets? If so, what kind and what are their names?

Who wrote these questions? Do you even know me at all? Here are ten things you didn't know about Smidgen, for the uninitiated.

Question 10: What are your number one favourite non-fiction and fiction books?

Fiction: After You'd Gone by Maggie O'Farrell. Non-fiction: probably Into Thin Air by Jon Krakauer. I love a good mountaineering disaster book. I have no idea why.

Question 11: What’s your favourite beauty product?

Erm, water? For my face? This is so not my thing. I do like Essie Ballet Slipper nail varnish because it's hard to tell when it's chipped - does that count?

Question 12: When were you last embarrassed? What happened?

I'm now a bit embarrassed to have told the internet about that topless, champagne-fuelled pumping session, but OH WELL.

Question 13: If you could only drink one beverage (besides water) for the rest of your life, what would it be?

A perfect white wine.

Question 14: What’s your favourite movie?

It's Beaches. I haven't tried watching it since my mum died, though. I'll probably be ready for that in, oh, twenty years? Or when they invent a bottomless box of tissues, whichever comes first.

Question 15: What were you in high school: prom queen, nerd, cheerleader, jock, valedictorian, band geek, loner, artist, prep?

I was COOL AS BALLS. If by "cool" you mean the kind of person who goes to orchestra camp.

Question 16: If you could live anywhere in the world, where would you live?

Here's the thing: I *could* live anywhere in the world. Nothing's stopping me. So I suppose the answer must be Edinburgh. It is quite lovely. Having said that, there was a listicle doing the rounds recently entitled 53 Reasons Living in Edinburgh Ruins You For Life, and I misread it as 53 Reasons Living in Edinburgh Ruins Your Life. Not sure what that says about Edinburgh, or about me for that matter.

Question 17: PC or Mac?

PC. See "cool as balls," above.

Question 18: Last romantic gesture from a crush, date, boy/girlfriend, spouse?

Fin took the dirty nappies out to the bin last night. Swoon.

Question 19: Favourite celebrity?

I was about to complain about the non-specific nature of this question - is it the hottest or the smartest? The one I want to be friends with or the one I want to be? The one whose work I most admire or the one with the best hair? - when I realised that the answer to all of these questions is Amy Poehler. Amy Poehler, Amy Poehler, Amy Poehler.

Question 20: What blogger do you secretly want be best friends with?

Amy Poehler?

Question 21: What do you have hung on your wall that you adore?

A framed picture of Amy Poehler. Not really. I made a cloud mobile for Flora with colourful felt ball raindrops which is pretty adorable, but it's hanging from the ceiling so it doesn't count. Failing that, I'm a big fan of this friendly lion who resides on the wall in "her" room (she doesn't sleep in there yet, so it's mainly used for hanging washing and hiding things when people come to visit, as per Question 2).

And since Moz added a question of her own to her list, I'm going to add one of mine, one that I've been asked more times than I can count in the last 13 weeks and never know how to answer.

Question 22: How are you getting on?

I'm fine. We're fine. Tired, happy, overwhelmed, bewildered, healthy, terrified, loving, fine. Thank you for asking. How about you? Images: 1. Kitchener Photography, 2. My Etsy treasury powered by Toastie Studio - Etsy Tools. The rest are mine.

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Blog Love: Boring Baby Drones

I hadn't expected early motherhood to involve so much spare time. Not free time; I am chained to that hungry little monkey almost constantly and don't expect to be liberated any time soon. Fortunately, I have a severe case of Stockholm syndrome when it comes to my tiny captor, so I don't mind. But I'm spending many, many hours cradling either a baby or a breast pump, neither of which provides me with much in the way of sparkling conversation. Inevitably, at some point I will find myself gazing blearily into the glow of a laptop or phone hoping to fill some of those quiet hours with companionship, consolation or distraction, depending on my mood. Pretty much anything will do for distraction - working my way through fifteen seasons of ER, pinning pictures of trendy haircuts that I don't have time to get, rearranging the baby's adorable outfits for the tenth time - but companionship and consolation are more elusive, particularly when you only have one hand and can't move from the couch. So it's the internet to the rescue, once again. If you have no interest in children, you will probably have no interest in what I'm about to share with you. If, like me, you just want to know that You're Not The Only One, you should bookmark these links immediately. Please note: as if to prove my point, I am sitting on a couch cradling a baby and typing this with one hand. I don't have the time or the energy to write long, heartfelt pitches as in previous Blog Love posts. You'll just have to take my word for it. This is the good stuff.

TEA & ORANGES

Tea & Oranges is the blog of a woman from New Zealand who is currently on maternity leave. I know no more about her than that, but I know that if I ever ran into her (admittedly not likely) I would give her a hug then give her a high five. Her blog is a combination of thoughts on parenting and society, snippets of her own personal experience, and well-informed rants about New Zealand's parental benefits system, the last of which is surprisingly interesting despite being of no direct relevance to me whatsoever. I particularly loved this post about being a child of a high-flying career mother. There's a lot of discussion on this topic from a working mother's perspective, but not much from that of the child, I guess because today's children haven't developed the self-awareness or fine motor skills to write about it yet. Slackers.

FLORENCE FINDS

I've mentioned Florence Finds before, back when we were both young and fresh and could sleep for 8 hours in a row. My, how times have changed, eh Rebecca? Rebecca's beautiful baby Bea was born just a few days after our bairn made her appearance, so Florence Finds is really resonating with me at the moment. From practical posts about slings and nursing bras (in both cases, it's all about the support) to thoughts on body image and the emotional impact of becoming a mother, Rebecca's opinions are always well thought out. I really enjoy hearing her perspective, even if - especially if - my own experience has been different. Her recommendations are also excellent, be they tense BBC dramas or maternity dresses. In short, she's like a cool mum friend with great taste that you wish lived round the corner. In fact, she's exactly that.

ONE BAD MOTHER

Technically this is cheating, because One Bad Mother isn't a blog; it's a podcast. Sometime I don't have a free hand or even a free pair of eyes ("La la la, looking at my phone, reading a blog, la la la, this is so easy oh whoops the baby threw up all over herself and I didn't notice") so something that just requires my ears is perfect. Bonus points for being sarcastic, honest, informative and highly amusing. 

One Bad Mother takes the form of a conversation between the two hosts, both mothers of small children, on topics including parenting triumphs and failures, the horrors of pregnancy, and why a glass of wine for mommy is not only justified but necessary. Fin can't listen to it on the grounds that they're "screechy," and he may have a point, but they've become my late-night sanity-maintaining feeding buddies so I'll forgive them anything.

So. There are three things that make me feel marginally less alone in this crazy endeavour called parenthood. Fellow caretakers of tiny humans, what else should I be reading/listening to/gobbling up at four in the morning?

SEE ALSO:

→ Blog Love: American Tales

→ Blog Love: Style with substance

→ Blog Love: Tell it like it is

Images: 1. Mama Watters 2. Top with Cinnamon 3. Rebecca's Instagram 4. One Bad Mother

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[asafemooring]

Signs of Sleep Deprivation

Leaving the hob on all afternoon. Then putting a plastic tupperware box down. On the hob. I have no idea how to clean melted plastic. Maybe I'll just stop using that hob. Waking from a thick, black, unplanned sleep to find the baby lying where I'd left her on my chest, her fat cheeks cold to the touch. I've never felt panic like it. Seeing her wriggle, then realising that Fin had been awake and alert and watching over us the whole time, did nothing to stop my hands shaking. Falling asleep at the wrong moment has never been so terrifyingly easy. Watching a High School Musical spin-off from start to finish because I couldn't summon the energy to change the channel. Secretly enjoying it. Image: Natalia on Flickr

See the original post on A Safe Mooring