bkfst, alone.

Through a fortuitous series of events I ate breakfast alone yesterday, twice, (I was hungry), and it was Glorious.  

For the first 6 months of W&P's lives I ate breakfast alone, once they'd fallen asleep for their morning nap and while Nye was in bed after being up all night with one or other or both of them. It was when I read emails, caught up with blogs, sat and stared into the middle distance revelling in the silence, it was the only time of day that I spent alone and awake. Then they started eating breakfast too and while Nye was asleep we would throw food around the kitchen and yell together, it was great fun. I didn't miss breakfast alone but I did miss Nye. Then two months ago the most wonderful thing happened, the girls started sleeping through the night. (Or rather, we started ignoring them when they woke in the night. Semantics.) and Nye started coming to bed at the same time as me and most wonderfully, getting up at the same time as me and we all started having breakfast together. Four people around a table, throwing cereal and yelling together. A proper family breakfast like I don't remember since I was little and staying with my grandparents at the same time as my cousins, the kind I never thought I'd enjoy because I'm Not A Morning Person. But you know what? I love it.  

Except. Yesterday was kind of amazing. Breakfast alone, with no one yelling and no one throwing food is sort of a treat. You know, just once in a while.  

Photos by Isabelle Bertolini, K_ _ _ _ and Caroline Hancox, via BKFST (I love this blog.) 

June 8th.

When feet were so small, heads were so flaky and laughter was so new. 

Go, Buy.

Photo: One Love Photo

So my friend Meg wrote a book. I want you to buy it. Because my friend Meg wrote it. That's reason enough, right? No? Okay, how about I'm quoted in it? That's pretty cool huh? You should probably buy it just to read what I have to say. No? Fine, let's start again. 

Are you engaged? Are you thinking about getting engaged? Is someone you know engaged or thinking about getting engaged? Are you or someone you know kind of keen on the idea of getting engaged but the thought of a wedding gives you/them the fear? Then you really need to buy this book. 

 I'm just going to let people who have read (or written) the book tell you why: 

"...Maybe we can talk about something else that's important—the fact that the wedding world is kind of out to get us. Between the reality TV shows, the magazines, and the blogs, the wedding industry makes us out to be both the victims and the villains of our own wedding stories. We're either doing Too Much or Not Enough and we can never win. And the industry is making boatloads of money off our insecurity. But this book, this monumental labor of love, it doesn't want that for you. It gives you the power to own your wedding, to make it something that is meaningful, joyful, respectful—and that's powerful. In fact, I'm surprised the wedding industry even allows this book to exist, that's how much it challenges the commonly-held notions about what weddings are supposed to be. And that, my friends, is something worth celebrating" Maddie, who read the book. 

"Ever since I started writing APW, I wanted to write a wedding book with my particular perspective. A sane book. A mildly irreverent book. A book that told you it was ok to do what you wanted, but you also had to respect other people's feelings. A book inspired by all the Miss Manners books I giggled over as a small child lying at the bottom of a very large bookshelf, but with how-to instructions on how to actually get the job done. A book with some proper wedding history included. A book that told you how to get to the other side with grace and with your dignity and savings more or less intact. I wanted to write the book I really needed when I was planning." Meg, who wrote the book.  

Sounds good, huh? Also, and this bit is important. If you buy the book today there's a chance we can push it onto the bestseller list, and that by doing that we'll tell the people who publish the Very Bad Wedding Books that we need more of these sane wedding books. Which would be pretty cool.  

two babies

Occasionally there are these moments that make Nye and I look at each other and say "Two baboes! We had TWO BABIES!." Sometimes we don't say the words, we just look at each other and we know that is exactly what the other is thinking. Sometimes we don't say the words because we're laughing too hard but we still look at each other and say 'two babies!' silently, through the breathless hilarity. This was one of those times. 

(sorry, I know gifs are really annoying. I promise I'll post something else soon so it's not at the top of the page, giving you a migraine. Oh, and if it's just a still picture of Ella's (absurdly long) legs you might wanna hit refresh or click on the picture, I'm not entirely sure how these things work, just that it took me three days to make this so you probably should give it a go.) 

December 1st

Every few months a small brown envelope drops through my letterbox and something lurches in my chest. Something like sadness, something like regret, something an awful lot like loss. I know what those envelopes mean. Their size, their deceptive lightness, the small piece of sellotape across the back that stops their news from sneaking out before it reaches its intended. I know that when I open it the words 'we regret to inform you... passed away... hospice... many of you knew her... for those that would like to attend... details will follow.' will escape from that envelope and permeate my heart, like a malignant cloud, and will follow me wherever I may go to try to escape. 

Most of the time the names don't mean much to me, just another client of the charity I used to work for. Sometimes they ring a bell, a story I heard, an anecdote shared comes back to me. And twice those names have belonged to the mothers of children I used to work with, mothers who would open the door to me weekly and allow me to take their daughters by the hand and spend an afternoon with them in the cinema, at the zoo, in toy shops while they took the small chance they were given to have a rest. Daughters who are now parentless. 

If an envelope were to drop through my door every time someone, somewhere dies from Aids I would receive over 5000 a day. If an envelope dropped through my door for every child everywhere that was orphaned to aids I would be the proud owner of over 20 million envelopes. As it is I just have my own small collection. Around a dozen names in my desk drawer, lost to a disease that is entirely preventable. 

December 1st. World Aids Day. If nothing else, remember.

(yes, this is reposted from December 1st 2009. I had nothing to say that said it any better.) 

Dear Universe

Dear Universe,  

So I get that the common cold is well... common and that the babies need to develop their immune systems etc etc. And of course Nye needs to get the flu occasionally to remind me that I love him even when he's sick. And period pains are my punishment for being a woman and whatever. And that thing with my computer refusing to open files is the price I pay for my reliance on technology. But the dead rat under the bathroom floor? The hidden dead rat that smells like pickled onion crisps mixed with pure evil? You really think that's necessary?  

Love P. 

*Banksy rat