I’m a big, big girl in a big, big world…

Gone is the cot and the baby who slept in it.

Here to stay is the big girl and the big girl bed.

There are moments as a parent when you gulp with angst that they’re growing so fast, getting older so quickly. Taking down the cot, and putting them in a proper bed has been, for me, one of those moments. All those silent feeds, since she was 6 months, lowering her back into the cot in the darkness of night. All those times I freaked out, like the first time I discovered she had turned 180 degrees in the night. And the first time she was just stood in the cot, a prisoner in a jail where I was the warden and my milk was her reward. 

She barely stretched the half way point in her cot when I first put her in it. It was for a nap on 7th March 2016: she was just 46 days old. 

She loved her cot, though not towards the end when it symbolised being alone and locked up. She already loves her big bed, crawling all over it and enjoying a bedtime story with mummy and daddy sat either side. 

Yet each time my lovely girl reaches another milestone, I feel a sadness simultaneously with the delight. The delight is easy to explain: there is not greater joy than watching your own child grown and learn and develop, doing things for the first time. But the sadness… that’s trickier.

For me, it is because each milestone triggers the memories of the milestones before. So I start to think about my baby before she could crawl, or roll, or even hold her own head. I start to think about my baby before she ate food, or said words. The baby who made only the smallest little snuffling sounds. I think of the baby who could do nothing but stare helplessly into my eyes as I cuddled her, fed her, changed her, sang to her. And so the sadness is because I am suddenly reminded of a time that has been and gone. A time that can never again be lived again.

It isn’t like returning to a favourite place on holiday, or frequenting the same restaurant. Once these days are gone, they are gone. One day my daughter will talk, we will be able to have conversations. If she’s anything like me, I’ll be silently wishing her to quiet down. Maybe I won’t be. Even if I am, I know I will be thinking about the days when she hadn’t even uttered her first word: Eddy (our cat). I will be remembering them, fondly, whilst also excitedly looking forward to what the future holds for this creature of mine.

Maybe it isn’t a sadness, then, that fills me when I reminisce about the moments of my daughter’s life so far. I’m not sure what it is. Perhaps that is why it is so hard to explain the feeling. 

Everyone always said, even before she was born, “Enjoy every moment! It will pass so quickly.” It wasn’t that I didn’t believe them. I just didn’t think it would go that quickly.

Enjoy every moment. I know I am.

First Day Nerves

Will I be good enough? What if it goes wrong? What if I let people down?

Those are the nervous thoughts rushing through me as I approach a life time first. A netball tournament.

Even at school, I was never good enough to be picked for the team. I think I played one Netball match when they were desperate. I was 11, maybe 12 years old. I’m now 29, and somehow I have found myself playing in a end of season tournament.

So I am nervous. But the Bible is full of scripture highlighting the merit of hard work and trying hard. My favourite is this:

“Whatever your hand finds to do, do it with all your might, for in the realm of the dead, where you are going, there is neither working nor planning nor knowledge nor wisdom.”

‭‭Ecclesiastes 9: 10 ‭NIVUK‬‬

There we have it. Whatever you find yourself doing, do it with all your might.

Today, I will drop the ball, miss a shot, get done for footwork and goodness knows what else. Why? Because I’m not really that good at netball. But, I will try with all my might to be the best netballer I can be. Who knows? I might even intercept the ball at some point!

Race for Life

I have never been a runner, ever. In fact, I’m quite certain I wasn’t even one of those children who just ran and ran and ran. Maybe my memories hazy, though. Since having my daughter, I’ve wanted to get fit. Mainly so I can have a healthy future with her, but also so I set a good example to her as she grows up in this world obsessed with looks and beauty. I want her to know that we exercise to keep our bodies strong, not necessarily to keep them slim.

Anyway, I digress. Last year, I started running but soon found my knees aching and so I stopped and recovered. It turns out it was a mixture of lingering hormones from pregnancy and the introduction of hills too soon into my runs. So I have rested, recovered and yesterday I went for a run. I did the Week 2, Run 1 of Couch to 5K from the NHS. How was it?

BRILLIANT!

I really enjoyed it, even though it was hard. And that brings me to the title of this post: Race for Life.

Each year, across the UK, Cancer Research UK put on various running events for all women. You can walk, jog or run your way round, all in the name of beating cancer. I did one in 2010, a 10K. I was slightly 10kg lighter then and managed it in 1 hour and 3 minutes, with minimal training. This time, I’d like to complete the 5K in under 45 minutes. 

I know, I know. There’s only 18 minutes between those two times, but I’ve had a baby and grown a stomach, so getting round will be harder. Between the race and now I have 7 training runs, as well as weekly netball. I should be ok, right?

If you’re feeling generous, here’s a link to my fundraising page.

When Life Gives You Lemons

As the old adage goes, when life gives you lemons… make lemonade!

My readers will know that this week has left us reeling, as our home buying process was suddenly, and guttingly, ripped apart by our buyer. Life, it feels, has not only given us lemons. It has taken those lemons and squeezed them into our eyes. We came into the weekend feeling hurt and wounded.

Thankfully, though, we have good friends and family. And the weather is amazing, which always helps. We spent a good morning with a friend, tidying and cleaning the house. My husband worked hard weeding, pruning and cutting in the garden. All whilst our friend’s wife looked after our little girl.

After enjoying (maybe not the right word – I hate cleaning) our morning, we went to our friends’ house and devoured an amazing homemade lasagne. The rest of the afternoon was then spent playing in the garden, with the paddling pool, not to mention a small water fight and many independent steps from our daughter.

Last week life gave us lemons. So, we made lemonade. Fun, friend-filled, first steps and laughter flavoured lemonade. 

Delicious!

What the Gazunder…!

To gazunder: to reduce the offer price of a property after agreeing to a higher one (usually immediately before exchange of contracts).

So there you have it. That is what has happened to us.

We accepted an offer of what we originally paid for our house, within a week of it going on the market. We also found ourselves our dream home… perfect for our family, perfect for our future. We allowed ourselves to dream: of long walks on the nearby beach; of cosy evenings by the fire; of dinner parties and space to move in the kitchen, finally. We had even argued about which school to send our 16 month old daughter to.

Before we went on holiday 3 weeks ago, our buyer threatened to pull out if we didn’t exchange contracts then and there. But we couldn’t. Our vendors weren’t ready. The solicitors calmed him down (or so we thought) and we arranged to exchange contracts on 14th June (yesterday). Of course, our solicitors didn’t calm him down: this was his intention all along.

That is what it is to gazunder. Otherwise known as, to screw someone over. It is hoped that by piling the pressure on, it lures your vendor into believing you are desperate to move. Then, when they are ready, you pull the rug from under them by offering them less than the agreed offer. The hope is that the homeowner will be so anxious to sell (so they themselves can buy their next home) that they will agree to the lower offer. 

What the gazunder!! How can there be a verb for what that is? How can it be such a common occurrence that someone thought to give it a name?

What happens now? Well, we have told him to jog along. He can pay the price previously agreed, or he can pull out. That was 2 days ago. Since then neither the solicitors nor the estate agents have heard from him. 

How can anyone do this to someone? How can someone come into a home, meet a family with a baby, and set out to screw them over? And it doesn’t just screw us over, it screw the family above us over too. If you are reading this and wondering about gazundering someone, don’t. Just don’t.

The emotional agony is hard to bare. I’ve wept this evening, and I doubt I’ll sleep tonight. My husband certainly won’t. And our little girl won’t get her big girl’s room, with her toys in there and a lovely Wendy house in the garden.

What Women Want

I suppose this title is rather cheeky. I mean, it’s not really about what women want. Nor is it about the film with the same title – brilliant, in case you haven’t seen it. Actually, what I wanted to write about was the right to vote.

It’s Polling Day here in the UK, and people across the country have been voting for an MP to represent them. At the same time, how people vote for their MP may have an impact on who is our Prime Minister. It is safe to say, then, that this is a big day.

But today is also a big day for another reason. No, not my dad’s 60th, though that is a special occasion we mark today. In fact, today marks 104 years since Emily Wilding Davison died after suffering wounds at the Epsom Derby. She ran out in front of the horses with her banner, hoping to gain more publicity and public backing for women’s suffrage. She died in protest.

She died fighting for the right to vote: my vote to vote, and Isobel’s right to vote. 

That is what women wanted then, and it is what women in other parts of the world still want and are still fighting for. Whatever you do today, go and vote.

Why We Should All Still Be Singing Shine Jesus Shine

Returning from our final holiday walk in Northern Ireland, I had a text from a friend. It devastated me. I missed out on singing Shine Jesus Shine at church this morning. This is one of my all time favourite hymns and yet, so many people hate it (particularly, it would seem, my generation. I think, though, that even after 30 years we should all still be singing this song today. 

For me, I fell in love with this song as a child. Though I was young, I longed to sing and worship God and this song allowed me to do that. Partly because of its easy to sing, catchy melody, and partly because I understood the words. Too many other hymns used language I couldn’t comprehend. Even today, I find that too many songs that are sung in church are either difficult to understand at face value, or use vocabulary which is fluffy and ambiguous.

So, why should we all be singing Shine Jesus Shine?
“Lord the light of your love is shining, in the midst of the darkness shining.”

As we open our mouths to sing, we begin this song with a proclamation of the power of God’s love. This isn’t just the warm hug and cuppa with your best friend after a hard day kind of love. This love, God’s love, is so powerful that it is light itself. It stands out in the darkness alone, and shines brightly as a beacon of hope for all to see.

Last night I went to bed with the news of another terror attack in England. Less than 24 hours ago, mourners were attacked by suicide bombers at a funeral in Kabul, Afghanistan. Meanwhile, innocent children, women and men were gunned down by Islamic State (IS) as they fled the streets of Mosul. Throughout history, humans have hunted and killed each other. This period of history, our time, is no different. We live in a dark world. This song reminds us that God’s love shines brighter than the darkest times we may encounter.
“By the blood I may enter your brightness. Search me, try me, consume all my darkness.”

After we are finished proclaiming God’s awesome, powerful love, we move on to the second verse where we sing the above words. These serve as a reminder that Jesus died for us. His blood was poured out so that we, that is you and I, and every human throughout history, may come closer to him. It is a reminder that we are permitted to draw near and be made more like Jesus. God gives us an opportunity here, for us to be less like the dark world we inhabit, and more like his son: bright, brilliant, whole.
“Ever changing from glory to glory, mirrored here may our lives tell your story.”

Here we have, in the final verse, the outcome of us becoming more like Jesus. In the previous paragraph I wrote of how we have this amazing opportunity to become less like the darkness, and more like the light. If we do that, the end result can only be one thing: that we shine God’s light out to the world for them to see. We are able to, with God’s help, be reliable witnesses for him. Our lives can, if we let God’s light shine out of us, reflect the beauty of Jesus’ story.

Finally, the big one: the reason Christians around the globe will be singing this song today, particularly.

“Blaze, Spirit, Blaze.”

It’s Pentecost! Today we celebrate the fulfilment of a prophesy. We celebrate God sending his Holy Spirit down so that we can be witnesses for him in this dark and fallen world. Without this, we are nothing. This is God’s living spirit, empowering us and emboldening us to share God’s light wherever we go.

The chorus of this song is so rich and wonderful. In it, we proclaim God’s glory and ask for him to bless us and our lands. We ask God to set our hearts on fire, so that we may ‘act justly, love mercy and walk humbly’ with him. Finally, we ask for his truthful word so that there may be light in the darkness.

New Memories

On 26th July 2017, my husband and I will celebrate our 3rd weddding anniversary. Shortly after that wonderful, joy-filled day, we honeymooned in Ireland and Northern Ireland. Along the way, we created many memories.

One of our favourite days was spent exploring the Giant’s Causeway and Carrick-a-Rede Rope Bridge with a spot of tea at the Red Door Tea Room in the middle of the day. Today, we got to relive those memories, and add to them

Words cannot describe how wonderful this stretch of coastline is. Neither do pictures do it justice. Similarly, the cosy feeling experienced at the tea room is similar to that of a hug from an old friend.

So, instead, some pictures.

2 and a half years ago my husband and I took some jumping shots on Carrick-a-Rede… today we added to them! One of the joys of visiting familiar places with your children is getting to make new memories.