Month: January 2015

Facebook Baby

One of the things I’ve appreciated most in the last 6 months is Facebook.  It really has helped me feel connected to the world.  That’s what happens when most of the people who care about you and the human you’ve made live 40 to 4,000 miles away. Here’s a run-down on what’s been happening around here for the past few months, as told through Facebook status updates and posts: June 27th – Isla Madelyn born 11:52, 27th June 2014, 7 pounds, 2 1/2 ounces – happy, healthy and beautiful. Mother and baby both doing well! June 28th – Mummy’s having her first coffee in almost 9 months … July 2nd – We got home yesterday and all is right with the world. Everything really is awesome. July 3rd – Isla at large and watching us eat hotdogs, July 4th – Registered Isla’s birth and got her a library card! July 12th – Isla’s first road-trip to Skye July 14th – Testing the theory that all babies look like Winston Churchill. July 22nd – July 23rd – Isla is 2 ounces off 8 pounds. Yay, boob juice July 26th – Isla will be accepting visitors from Friday August 1st. August 3rd – Isla took a cloth and wiped her face today. Now, if she could just change her bum…Self-cleaning baby August 4th – Started wearing purple. Of course my child looks good in...

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Happy New Year, Baby

Dear Isla, You are six months and a bit. You are my Monkey, my Strumpet, My Favourite Baby. The first time I held you, I told you you’d been here before. And there’s an old soul shining out of your bright blue-grey-silver eyes. On a somewhat related note, I’m sorry for thinking that milk-blister made you look like a tiny version of Nanny McPhee for your first few days. I take it back. And I promise that wasn’t the reason I cried a lot. I cried because you are beautiful. And because I’ve loved you forever, and I recognised your face from my dreams. I cried because you have elbows. I really can’t remember my life before you. And your last two weeks of baking really were a different kind of forever. But you’re here now. We’re here. And your Dad still has all his hair. You have his eyes and my mouth. Make of that what you will. You look just like you. Your favourite thing to do is pull my hair. And dance. Sometimes at the same time. I still love you. You like pears. And shrieking. You seem to prefer me without my glasses on. And if you’re pretending to like country music because it makes me happy, keep doing it. Humour me, I’m your mother. Right now, your spirit animals seem to be giraffes and...

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How Mama Rolls

Hi, my name is (still) Lorna. My kid is just over six months old, and I don’t know how the hell that happened. No, I don’t need a Biology lesson. I need a drink. I haven’t written anything longer than a Facebook update in well, six months. But yet, here I am. Today, I found myself in a bookshop, wiping a booger off Isla’s face and then smearing it on my jeans. Is that some sort of parent achievement unlocked? Because, y’know, I didn’t have a cloth. And wiping a booger on the books would have been too gross. As I write this, Isla is Tarzan-yelling, happily. Neil is putting together her new walker-thingy. I know I have a good deal. And for that, I’m grateful. (That doesn’t even cover it.) But I’m also tired. And hungry. And I really need to brush my hair. (That doesn’t even cover it.) Back in the bookshop, we’re ready to pay, and then Isla starts Tarzan-yelling, unhappily. Usually, I kinda yell back until she gets confused and laughs. However, I know when this tactic won’t work. And this afternoon was one of those times. Picture it, Isla there in her carrier, strapped to my front. Protesting like we stole her. I’m humming and jiggling. Almost dancing in my chair. And I don’t even need to pee. Instead, I’m mumbling, ‘Oh, Strumpet’ while...

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