the calm before the most beautiful storm

My dear babygirl,

Nine whole days I have to wait for you.
It seems like a lifetime, when in fact, it's nothing compared to the time that I've been waiting for you since the day I found out you were in my tummy.

Nine whole days till I can hold you in my arms, smell your sweet baby smell, touch your wrinkly, unfilled skin.
I've been in your room everyday slowly getting your little space ready. Your bed is waiting to be filled.

Nine whole days till you make our little family into one of four.
Your big brother is eagerly awaiting your arrival, he is quite keen on helping to look after you. You don't know yet how much he loves you already.

Nine long days.
And then you're here.

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Carne Griffths

It's been awhile since I've posted any sort of inspiration on this blog, to be honest, my pregnant brain hasn't really been feeding off anything. And to be even more honest, everything has gone on standstill. My writing, my own art, my inspirations and everything else I could possibly think of. I'd like to believe babygirl is feeding it all as she lays in my belly, sucking up all possible remnants of my artistic soul. 

Perhaps she'll be an artist like me. Perhaps not. All I know is, I can't wait to meet her.

For now though, a little inspiration from Carne Griffiths has left a perfectly sweet taste in my mouth with his amazing pieces created with ink, tea, vodka, brandy ..... a wonderfully mystical collection of work, with his liquid streaks dripping down his paper to create an effect that works perfectly with his whole vision. His abstraction leaves one to only join him on his journey through his creative kingdom and envision his power of creating a path for others to enter through his world. 
I'm glad I found him, his art brings me joy in a time that I needed it most. 

More on his website, blog and Behance. You can also follow him on twitter @carnegriffiths 
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Birdcages, owls and poopie nappies.

When you are eight months pregnant, it's easy to feel left out. It's easy to feel like the world is speeding past you while you waddle through your days. It's easy to feel like so much is happening around you and you lose your breath trying to catch up. For your girlfriends will still have their dinners over cocktails and red wine. Your girlfriends will still go out dancing and your girlfriends will still sleep in the next day rocking those ultimate hangovers.

Life around you goes on and you miss out on certain things. 
But at eight months pregnant, a walk down the hall leaves you breathless. 
Lying down on the couch with your swollen feet up sounds more appealing than dancing in your five inch heels.
Drinking a cup of ginger tea warms you up more than that glass of Pinotage. 
Wearing comfy pajamas at nine in the evening is more comfortable than those skinny ass jeans.

And then special days happen that celebrate the main reason why you are in fact missing out. 
And then you realise, that you are not missing out on much. 
On special days like this one, your friends remind you that you are missed as much as you miss them. 
And that they are not going anywhere. 

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a dab of colour, a stroke of a brush

I forget how good it feels to hold that brush. 

Even if its spent painting animals with poster paints and decorating parrots with sequins and feathers on my dining table with my four year old.
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the magical inner light of the owl

The Native American tribes believed the owl to that of a protector against harm using their feathers to ward of the evil spirits. 
The ancient Athenians 'made the owl an emblem of wisdom' and is a symbol of Athene, the goddess of foresight and knowledge.
A nocturnal bird, a creature of the night, one that symbolises inner-knowing, intuition, and mystery.

Babygirl will have something watching over her in her little nursery when mummy and daddy aren't around, keeping her protected in its mystery, keeping her safe when she's in her little space.
Can't wait to do her nursery up. 
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i'm ready.

1. I'm ready to play football again. I'm ready for an 8k run.
2. I'm ready for a spicy tuna salad, medium rare steak, peanut butter sandwiches, eggs benedict, foie gras and vodka tonics.
3. I'm ready to go out dancing with my friends in high heels and skinny jeans.
4. I'm ready for long evenings of good food, bottles of red wine, conversations and friends without feeling the need to fall asleep at the stroke of 10 pm. 
5. I'm ready for round two of nappies and breastmilk. 
6. I'm ready for those long nights. 
7. I'm ready to walk and not waddle.
8. I'm ready to wear my wedding ring again.
9. I'm ready to get pampered with a full body deep tissue massage, dye my hair and get highlights.
10. I'm ready to be me again. 
11. But most of all, I'm ready to meet my little girl. Ready to be a mother of two. Ready to become a   family of four.

 I'm so ready. 

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you are four today

Dear Cameron,

You, my boy, are four today.


I look at you and can't believe four years have passed since you graced our lives with your presence. If I knew time would move this fast, I would have prayed even harder to it to slow down. I can barely even carry you anymore and your long legs take over mine when you sit on my lap. You come up to just over my waist and your feet will soon take over mine. Who asked for time to move this fast? I surely didn't. But what I do know, and what I am grateful for, is that that time has brought me your growth. And watching you grow has brought me happiness, no matter how emotional it makes me at times. 

☆  I love that we have full conversations. In times, you surprise me with your wit and your personality.         You speak in full sentences and your words are more pronounced. Although, I still love that you say aminal instead of animal. It reminds me that at times you really still are my little boy. Sometimes I don't want to correct you so I can hear it over and over again.

☆  I love that you know exactly what you want. You stand your ground when you don't like something even if it makes us mad at times, it makes me proud to know that you will one day be able to stand up for yourself.

☆  I love your attention to detail. You see the tiniest details in your toys, in your food, in us, in yourself. How can a little four year old be this discerning and vigilant to the smallest things? Your mindfulness amazes me.

☆  I love how clever you are. I love that you are a leader in your nursery class, that your teacher gives you extra work to challenge your mind, and that you soak in everything so easily. My heart beams with pride all the time. 

☆ I love that you are excited to meet your baby sister. I love that you touch my tummy all the time, always waiting for her to move so you can feel her. You'll be the best big brother she can ever have wanted. You'll be kind and I know you'll love her as much as we love you.

☆ I love that you are sensitive. You are aware of your emotions and you are not afraid to share it with us. I love that you tell me when you are happy, or sad and even when you're angry. One day you will realise, that a real man is one who is never afraid to shed his own tears or share his emotions.

☆ I love that you are protective of those that you love. Your guard stands high and you already know that the ones you love are the ones you want to look out for.

☆ I love that you know about reasoning. And oh my, do you really know how it works. 

☆ I love your cheeky laugh. Your heartfelt giggles. Your contagious smiles. I love that no matter what it you always know how to make me smile. You really do have me wrapped around your fingers. You know you will always be mama's boy, even till you have children of your own. 

☆ I love your charm. How you work your magic on everyone around you. How you charm them in your gorgeous little four year old spell. This, my boy, is something you must hold onto.

☆ I love your imagination. Your creative playground. Sometimes I wonder how all these things are stored in your head, but it's you. How could I ever doubt your ability to create stories?

☆ I love that you love hugs. And kisses. And cuddles. I love that you constantly ask for them as much as I do. 

☆ I love that as much as I miss how you were when you were little, I marvel at how you are growing up. 

My most favourite little man in the world, my heart, my soul. To the many more years ahead where I find more things to love about you. My heart is so full, I always wonder how you manage to always squeeze a little bit more in there for me to love about you. 

Happy fourth to you my sweet boy.

you are three today
you are two today
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who am i kidding

This year has come and gone I tell you. And I've done nothing to benefit my little online home. 
My pregnancy brain has taken over more than I had realised and has caused me to neglect my space. 

But I won't kid myself into believing I'm going to make up for it in the last two months of the year. 
There were so many things I had lined up for this year, I just have to let them go and perhaps hope that my two thousand and thirteen will be a better blogging year. 

So apologies to my small number of readers. It will get better on here if you still decide to stick around. 
I promise.

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the august that was

...through instagram eyes.

it was memorable. let's just say that. bad and good. ups and downs. 
my least successful august break.
my bittersweet august of two thousand and twelve.

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little girls and all things nice

pretty little dresses.



ballet {or not}.

I'm kinda excited.

for the august break. 

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that shiny little ring

“She smiled and said with an ecstatic air: "It shines like a little diamond",
"What does?"
"This moment. It is round, it hangs in empty space like a little diamond....” 

Almost seven years ago, this one man sat across his cousin to choose that stone, still in its raw form to decide how to design the diamond that he would set in a white gold band to place on the finger of the girl he wanted to spend the rest of his life with. Almost seven years ago, he carried the box a million miles away to step under a mango tree and get down on one knee on New Years Eve to ask her to marry him.

That stone. That diamond.

When I would look at it, I would go back in time and remember how body escaped in happy sobs, how the tears ran down my face when I realised what was happening in that one moment under the mango tree. The sparkle in the stone would bring back the sparkle in our eyes when I said yes. The shine would bring back our auras on those special days during our engagement, when we sat preparing for the day that would bind our lives together. I always looked at it. Even after seven years. I thought I'd be looking at it forever.

But it wasn't just a stone. Nor was it just a diamond.

It meant that he picked me to be the one he wanted to spend the rest of his life with. It meant that he chose me. And it held our stories in its little kaleidoscope. So please excuse me for being materialistic as I grieve the loss of my stone as in this one instance, this particular material possession meant the world to me. As much as I know there are thousands of diamonds out there, I know that there was only one that was mine, the only one that he chose to put on my finger that one surreal evening. As much as a stone is replaceable, this one isn't and neither are the stories that were engraved into it.

The empty setting on my engagement ring doesn't look right. The hollow spot where that stone sat stares back at me. The metal looks lacklustre without its shine. It looks incomplete. My finger feels incomplete.

And I'm absolutely gutted.

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