The bad bits.

4 in April

Right.

It is really really easy when talking about parenting to only say positive things, and to paint a really shiny picture of how everything is. When you have a little baby you are allowed to say you are tired, but after that saying anything negative about the whole experience leaves you feeling...like a failure, like a bad parent, like a monster. You also tend to diminish even in your own mind when things aren't going well. but they do exist, and they are frustrating.

So, here are the bits that aren't great

1.  co-parenting is stressful and sometimes really sucks. Mostly me and Coyote work really well together. but there are aspects of parenting together that get really tough. different things wind the other one up far more without the other parent seeing what the big deal is. And I don't really have a basis of comparison of HOW to co-parent effectively. Herminone's dad just used to ignore everything I said, and my dad walked out when I was 4 so I was raised pretty much single handed by my mum. So i accidentally undermine Coyote when i don't mean to, and he looses his rag over things I wouldn't, and Tabitha manages to play us off against each other.
2. The mess. me and Coyote are not very tidy people at the best of times, we both like owning lots of stuff, and have difficulties organising and keeping it all clean...add in a toddler and sometimes things get hellish. Tabitha can undo any level of tidying within minutes. her preferred method of getting to something at the bottom of a container is to dump the entire contents on the floor. and has no compunction about just emptying a packet of crisps on the carpet because she got bored with them. we do try really hard to keep on top of everything, but its like fighting an oncoming tide. and all it takes is an extra guest or us getting ill with a cold for everything to succumb to entropy. and talking of illness...
3. being constantly ill. I really want to take Tabitha swimming every week. but sometimes months go by without getting to go due to sickness. This week so far I've caught a cold and Tabitha came down with a stomach bug that had us running around at 1 am cleaning sick of everything.
4. being constantly tired. We have been amazingly lucky with Tabitha, for the most part not only does she sleep well at night, she also sleeps quite late in the day...but again, all it takes is for her to have a bad weeks sleep to make us all exhausted. if she decides at 4 am that she has had enough of sleep she will wake up the entire house and keep us awake until she crashes 6 hours later.
5. Frustration. Toddlers can be amazingly, head beating against a wall, level of frustrating. when no matter what seat I'm sitting in she decides that she wants to sit there and I have to move and you have to decide whether or not to let her be a little tyrant or say no and end up having a fight over it. When she asks and begs for one particular food, only to reject it out of hand when you give it to her. when she's trying to tell you that she wants something and you don't have a clue what it is because she isn't explaining well, and she's descending into hysterics because she wants the thing, but you don't know what the thing is...yeah...I could actually easily keep on giving examples. But I have a very high patience level with children, and even I find myself at the end of my rope occasionally.
6. Tantrums. There are times when I would happily swap Tabitha for a bottle of wine. Because with all of the love in the world, a tantruming 3 year old is hell. Especially if she is tired or hungry or both. and sometimes you just can't stop it. and sometimes it happens out in public or in front of people you would really like her to be well behaved around...and it can absolutely get to the point when handing her over to someone else and running away sounds great.
7. not being able to keep nice things nice. Tabitha has so many toys I could probably throw away a whole bin full without her noticing...and yet, the things that she really truly wants to play with are all the things we do not want her to break. Laptops and ornaments and the remote control, the contents of my handbag...and she can climb to get things and has the capacity to go up really high these days, nearly nothing is 100% out of her reach when she's feeling determined. Sitting surrounded by all the toys she could want, and the thing she is willing to clamber, climb and fight to get will be the beloved thing that is no only expensive, but sentimentally important.
8. getting time or personal space to myself. Tabitha is better than a lot of children about not being constantly at the centre of our attention. but like any toddler, she has difficulties with the concept that ANYTHING might be more important than herself. Her favourite trick when feeling ignored in a conversation is to climb on me like a climbing frame and proceed to attempt to lick me. sounds adorable (and it is most of the time) but when you are trying to actually have a sensible conversation with someone or even just discuss what the plans are for dinner it gets tricky. she also does this if one of us wants to paint, or play a computer game. its why its almost impossible for us to do much roleplaying any more, because trying to do an activity that isn't all about her around her would just lead to tantrums and disruptions, and trying to organise things for after her bed time ends up meeting the whole "constantly exhausted" problem.

so yeah. everything is not always lovely and perfect and clean in this world of parenting, but it doesn't diminish the good things. I love Tabitha and Coyote with all of my heart.

Oh gods...shes taking after me!

3 (4 in april)

Tabitha's personality is coming out more and more as time goes on. And what astonishes me is how much she is like me! especially how I was when I was younger. And it is starting making me reconsider the role of genetics in personality. I've always believed that there is a mixture of nature and nurture in how people are, but I've always leaned to the "nurture" side of things...my daughter is somewhat challenging that assumption.

For a start she is a massive tomboy. We've tried to raise her fairly gender neutrally, she gets to play with whatever toys she wants pretty much, duplo, a toy kitchen, teddies, creative stuff...but like me when I was her age she is heavily gravitating to things that are traditionally "boy stuff" she likes swords and dinosaurs and superhero's. If we ask her if she is a princess, she'll say "NO! I'm batman Tabitha". I cannot for the life of me get her into pretty girly clothes, instead she is most happy in jeans and a t-shirt. Which is exactly the same as how I was at that kind of age, and how my mother and grandmother were. I'm really sure I'm not massively encouraging this behaviour, in fact, it might be nice for her to be in a pretty dress occasionally, but nope, she flat out refuses.

She is a bloody minded individualist who doesn't care a fig for social convention...which again is massively how I was and still am. I occasionally go against social convention even when I'm actively trying to fit in! a perfect example of this is school uniform. she's been issued a school jumper, its not compulsory that she wears it, but the vast majority of children at the nursery happily wear it. Not Tabitha. The best I can do is get her to wear it on the way to nursery, and then she immediately wants to take it off. she simply doesn't care about fitting in with the other children. and for her nursery Christmas party I tried to get her into a pretty dress, or a Christmas top. She insisted on wearing her dinosaur costume. The argument of "but this is what other people do" means nothing to her. This actually worries me quite a bit, not caring about fitting in leads to not fitting in even if you want to. and though it has lead me to have a interesting life filled with some great adventures and I've ended up in place with some fabulous and likewise bizarre friends (you know who you are!). the journey to get to this place really hasn't been an easy one, especially in school where fitting in means the difference between having friends and ending up an outcast. I'm hoping her confidence and ability to charm the pants off everyone will bridge the gap and help her be both popular and unafraid of being individualistic. But again this trait is very heavily in my family, my mother was I bet the only school librarian in the country to drive to school on a motorbike, and is now taking trips to darkest India to learn more about fair trade, and my grandmother was a very forceful social worker who proceeded to travel the world (almost literally) when her husband died.

She also has a love of small shiny objects, stones and shells and bits of tinsel, anything that feels nice or looks shiny. Again this is a trait shared by both me and my mother and grandmother. we have all ended up with different magpie collections of one kind or another.

so yeah, in conclusion my daughter is turning into a smaller version of me, and I just really hope she also gets some of Coyote's strong and stable traits to balance out my chaotic madness.

(Tabitha on her way to her nursery Christmas party)

sex education

3 (nearly 4)

I have started sex education with Tabitha.

I actually started it quite some time ago. since she was capable of talking I've taught her words like "Vagina" and "Nipples" and "Penis" she knows that she has a vagina and that boys have penises. she knows that mummies nipples look different from her nipples, but when she is older hers will probably grow to look more like mummies.

She knows that she came out of my tummy (she even knows that the doctor had to cut her out because she wouldn't stop wiggling!) and that me and her daddy made her, because adults can make babies if they want to.

She is being taught the rudiments of consent, we always ask permission before a hug or a kiss, and if she says "no" then we don't do it. she knows if she doesn't want someone touching her in ways that she doesn't like then she has to say "NO! STOP" and they should stop. She knows that the places of hers that are covered by her swimming costume are special and private, and she shouldn't touch other people in these places and that people shouldn't touch her in those places either without her permission. this applies to tickling or hugging or kissing or any other kind of touch she doesn't want right now. We always give her a choice between a hug and a kiss and a high five (most of the time she asks for all three) so that she has a choice in how she is touched.

I am teaching her these things for a handful of reasons

1. I do think its important for children to have an understanding about the world around them and their own bodies. I want her curious and knowledgeable, and I think a slow spreading of information over a great number of years is much better than an information dump when they get to 16. My goal is for her to never remember having "the talk" because she's just been given such a slow drip of information over the years that it doesn't come as a massive shock or surprise.
2. I don't want her to get caught up in weird myths about being left under the bushes by fairies or stalks or anything. me and her daddy made her with love, and she grew in my tummy from a tiny flicker of light into a fully grown person. that is miraculous enough, it doesn't need any fantasy attached.
3. I don't want her to be dangerously uninformed about things to do with sex, I don't want her relying off playground gossip or what she has seen randomly online. I want her talking to me and her dad, to get accurate knowledge and advice. it will keep her healthy.
4. I want her to be able to protect herself and better help me to protect her. if she has the vocabulary to communicate whats happening to her then she can tell me things like "my vagina is sore and i need nappy cream" or (god forbid, please never let it happen to my little girl) "that man tried to get me to touch his penis". if she doesn't have the basic words she can't tell me if something is wrong.
5. Consent is just flat out important, for children and adults. being able to effectively enforce boundaries especially when it comes to our own bodies is very important, and knowing that she has to listen to and respect other peoples boundaries is just as vital. Right now its just about "that boy doesn't want a hug right now, but maybe he would be happy with a high five?" or "OK, you have had enough of tickling, that's fine" but I want the methods of thought behind it to be stuck in her way of thinking. I want her confident in saying "no" and listening to "no". I want that to be part of her future relationships.

so there we go. I'm sure some people will be thinking I am starting much too young, and that I am in some way damaging her innocence...but I would prefer her to be safe and knowledgeable and happy than innocent any day.

another short horror story

They say that the trenches and no man’s land of the 1^st world war was hell on earth.

Now you cannot tell what barbarity once happened there, it is a green and pleasant land where poppies grow...but perhaps when hell touches earth like it did in the meat grinder of the Somme, perhaps then some of hell gets left behind...

They still exist in this fragment of hell, undead and undying, unaware that the war is long past, because for them it is inconceivable that the war could ever end. They are ghost’s maybe, echo’s perhaps, partly sentient, but too brutalised to be called human any more.

But they exist, oh yes they do, just a breath away from us in the dark places that still linger, stand in the right place in those pleasant green fields where the poppies grow and they could almost reach out and touch you.

Their uniforms come in many kinds, and from many nations, but now the only colour they all share is mud brown, scum green and blood red. The ones that still speak, that still whisper prayer speak many languages, listen to them long enough and you will hear French, English, German all the languages of babel...they do not speak to each other, or even to you, only ever to themselves.

They deserted you see. Trapped in the horror and insanity of war, they gave in to the crashing waves of destruction and lost themselves. Got drawn together in a band of broken and mutilated men, hunting no man’s land, Any other soldier was their prey, they stole from bodies, created corpses, they rifled pockets for food and smokes and coin, and when their minds were well and truly gone, they took meat from their prey, meat flavoured with cordite and mustard gas.

Their ranks of the damned have swelled since that time, before the poppies grew. They joined from Stalingrad with feet and fingers black and frostbitten; they came from the camps where work promised to set them free, they came blackened from planes and helicopters burned up by napalm from lands far away sweaty with rainforest. They come from the sea and land and sky. This rabble of the damned and broken and lost has been seen in Kosovo and Rwanda, anywhere where hell has touched this earth again.

Their numbers continue to grow, grow daily, not just soldiers any more, but the very young and the very old have joined as well, children armed with AK47’s driven mad by all the evils the world has inflicted upon them have joined.

They live in the dark places of the world, where hope and humanity have become distant dreams, as hell spreads its stain on earth once again they walk out of the shadows muttering about how it will all be over by Christmas, about gooks and cockroaches.

Do they spread the shadow? Create it? Cause it somehow with their presence so close to our own? Maybe, maybe not. They do not work in concert, unless they happen to fall on a victim like wild dogs chewing, tearing and devouring. But their existence is like a rot in this world, or a boil filled with puss, more and more pain gets poured in, more and more the rot spreads and the pressure grows.

How long till they spill out and go from existing on the other side of the mirror, close but separate, to here with us? How long indeed. How long before humanity can stop creating its own hells and stop adding to the number of destroyed wrecks of people?

Perhaps it is already too late.

Perhaps.

Do you hear screams or bangs or people chanting sounds filled with hate and bile? Do you hear the cries of pain? Do you feel the rot of the world stretching its darkness around you? do you read in papers of cockroaches and infestation? do you hear the stabbing wrenching words that spew oil from mouths, words like, pakki, homo or nigger and feel the black slime splatter across you?

Maybe it is too late.

Maybe too late for us all.

Really sorry for the long break+potty training news!

3 (nearly 4) years

sorry for having such a long break between posts. to be honest mental health stuff had got too much on top of me. but I am on higher dose meds, I have a psychiatrist keeping an eye on me and a cpn (community psychiatric nurse) to help, so things are perking up a bit (thank god!!!!) and I'm back on the up swing finally!!!

my goodness....a lot has happened with Tabitha since I last wrote, she has moved up a class in Nursery school (she's now in the bluebells room) and is now pretty much the most popular girl in her class! every day when I take her to nursery most of the other children see her and immediately start shouting "TABITHA!" they have squabbles over who gets to hold her hand walking in the gate!

We have also been on holiday to Whitby with some wonderful friends! and had a fabulous time playing on the beach and looking for bugs at the abbey and we stayed in the youth hostel at the top of the cliffs right next door to the abbey. we found fossils and shells, there was a huge sandpit in the youth hostels garden and Tabitha loved playing in it. the sunshine was glorious and me and coyote got sunburned because we were concentrating so much on keeping Tabitha covered up we forgot about ourselves, and I bought a top hat!

We had a great time trick and treating, Tabitha dressed up as a rainbow witch and we got to meet a lot of random neighbors and we got £1 from a drunk guy, and lots of sweets and generally enjoyed being out looking for monsters in the dark!

We have also applied for Tabitha's primary school. which is a terrifying and big decision. I really hope we have made the right choice for her. our first place school is the one attached to the nursery she's already going to, so it'll be good continuity hopefully with some friends she has already met. our personal experience of the school and the things we have heard from parents and teachers about the school is great. but the ofsted report on the school isn't brilliant.but a lot of that seems to be because of the high level of non English speakers in the area. and the school has since become a new school under a new headmaster...so it's all a bit of a gamble. i really hope we have made the right choice.

we had a lovely day out with Hermione and my mum. we went pond dipping and caught lots of little wiggling things! Tabitha and Hermione get along like a house on fire! its lovely!

and I think the biggest news we have is that we have got Tabitha potty trained! I was actually pretty easy. it only took a couple of days for her to really get the idea and since then accidents have become almost non existent. She was simply ready to do it I think. so as soon as we made it clear that nappies were a thing of the past and that she was going to get sweeties for every pee and poop (stickers were just not doing the job) she wanted to do it. to begin with she still wore nappies at night, but they were always dry in the morning and she was really good at waking in the night to sit on the potty, and then she started to refuse to put on her pull ups at night...and since then she has been totally dry. I also learned to not put pressure on her to sit when she didn't want to. just trusting her to tell us when she needed to go was hard, but she has inherited my husbands massively stubborn streak, so trying to push her only made her less want to. we also timed it so that she would start potty training a week before she moved up rooms in nursery, which meant she had a brand new start in a new room where she had never worn a nappy.

so in a nut shell here are my potty training tips

• wait till they are really REALLY ready, no point rushing the issue. give it a week and if they are not making progress, go back to nappies for a while longer.
• you WILL have accidents occasionally to begin with, especially in the first couple of days, don't make a big deal out of it.
• bribery works!
• lots and lots of praise for successful potty using. 
• trust your child and don't push them too hard. if you are having to push hard, they probably aren't ready.

 (Hermione and Tabitha with pond dipping equipment)

 (Coyote and Tabitha on Halloween)

(me and Tabitha at the abbey pond in Whitby)

Short horror story

I wrote a short horror story, and I just thought I would share it here

Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump.

I groan and roll over in bed. I’d just started drifting off to sleep when the noise started.

Damn it. I thought that the house behind ours wasn’t being rented right now. It’s the perils of living in back to back terrace houses with very thin walls. Noisy neighbors become the bane of your existence.

Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump.

They must be doing some kind of DIY project from the sound of it. But why on earth are they doing it at 12 am! They must be finishing soon though? Surely?  I eventually manage to drop off to sleep in spite of the rhythmic bangs coming from next door.

I wake in the morning to bright sunshine and thankfully not a sound from my new neighbors. I tiredly get dressed and go to work. Glad their DIY antics seem to be over.

But the next night the same thing happens again!

Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump.

It might be my imagination, but it seems like it’s getting louder! I glance at the clock, and its 12 am! Ridiculous! I can’t keep putting up with this.

I decide to go over and talk to them, explain how noisy they are being and hopefully they will be understanding.

I go over and bang on the door. But everything is suddenly silent in their house. No more thumping.  And there are no lights on. The property looks empty. I bang on the door again. Standing in the dark street in pyjamas and hastily put on shoes. And suddenly I get the feeling I am being watched. It’s a cold creeping feeling of hairs on the back of my neck standing up. The silence suddenly doesn’t sound empty. It is a silence that sounds like someone listening.

I hurry back home. Back to the comfort of my own room and bed and lie under the covers shivering, but at least it’s quiet at last. Until...

Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump.

The next morning I call the councils noise complaint line.  

They are very helpful when I explain the situation. They tell me they are sending a letter to the tenant and landlord, that I need to keep a written record of what the noises are and when, and that if it happens again tonight to call the night time noise complaint number and someone will come over and have a talk to them.

I breathe a sigh of relief. It feels a bit mean bringing the council into this, but I just don’t want more nights of little to no sleep. And this should fix the problem. But I still feel a knot of anxiety in my stomach as it gets towards bed time.

I’m not even really trying to sleep this time, Even though I’m past exhausted from two nights of virtually no sleep.  I’m just lying awake watching the clock tick towards midnight.

11:45

11:46

11:47

Still no sound, not even a whisper from next door. Maybe it won’t happen tonight. Maybe its all over.

11:48

11:49

My heart is in my mouth.

12:00...

For one blissful second I think I’m safe. Then...

Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump.

I immediately pick up my phone and dial the noise complaint number. Then sit listening to the noise coming through my wall in the dark of the night.

Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump.

Like a metronome, loud and insistent.  Like a nail being driven into my skull, that goes on and on.

Then suddenly, silence. The thumping stops out of nowhere.

And I hear a knock on my door.

The knock makes me jump. It’s abrupt and surprising.

Rat-a-tat-tat.

But it’s only the men from the council. They ask about the noise, wonder what the problem is. I try to explain, but the silence in my home mocks my words.

But they offer to go next door and have a look. They return 10 minutes later and report that the house is dark and empty looking. No lights, no sound. No thumping. But more than that, they managed to contact the landlord, who confirmed that the house in question is currently uninhabited. They gently inform me that the landlord had in fact been to visit the property this very day and that he said that though there was some evidence of damage having been done to the property, suggesting maybe a vandal had broken in, but no evidence of a squatter. And as there is no evidence or sound of them right now, the house must be empty.

I beg the men, ask them to hang around. That the loud thumping noise was bound to begin again, they just needed to wait.

The men did what I asked. They waited with me quietly, waiting for the noise to start again. They were patient and kind to me. But as the minutes ticked on, no sound at all came through the walls. And they started to look impatient, glancing at their watches and checking their phones.  Eventually we all gave up on hearing the sound and they left.

Of course as soon as they had gone and I climbed in to bed, almost numb with tiredness, it began again.

Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump.

I managed to eventually sleep, with the sound invading my dreams, I dream of a monster creeping out of the darkness, but the only thing I can hear is its drum like heart beat.

The next day I take off work. The sound has gone with the dawn, but I am still so tired I can barely keep my eyes open, and I don’t think I will be able to concentrate enough to get anything productive done.

I am determined if...when the noise starts again, I’m going to go over there, break down the door if I have to, anything to get it to stop. I feel like I am living in the middle of a nightmare that I can’t wake up from. I want the intrusion into my house and my life to stop, I want to stop the feeling of fear and anxiety, that seems to be growing, to go away, even if it means breaking the law.

I don’t even bother to get into pyjamas tonight. I just sit on my bed and wait for 12 am to come. Wait for the thumping sound to start again.

Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump.

I flinch. And my face grows pale. But I am determined.

For the first time I notice that it is actually noisiest in my bedroom. It seems to be actually coming through the wall. I shudder and try to put that thought right out of my head.

I leave my house, and immediately the noise stops again. A dead silence. How do they even know I’m coming over? Are they listening to my every move? Why would they do that? It makes no sense. None of this makes any sense.

It’s only a handful of steps and then I am in front of their door again. I take a deep breath and then knock.

Nothing.

I knock louder. Loud enough anyone inside should surely have heard.

Again the quality of the silence takes on a different feel. It feels like there is someone waiting for me on the other side of the door, A malevolent thing listening to my scared breathing.

I turn the light on my phone on and try the door. To my immense shock and surprise, it swings open, with a drawn out creak. Its pitch black inside, and cold, but I screw up my courage and step inside. It isn’t carpeted, so my footsteps sound incredibly loud on the bare floor. The landlord was right, this place is empty, there is no furniture, no carpets, the heating feels like it’s not been on in a while as my breath is steaming the air.

I start to walk around, pausing before each door before swinging it open, I keep shining my light around, Piercing the darkness, expecting someone or something to come jumping out at me, Feeling like the first victim in a horror movie, still feeling the invisible eyes drilling into me.

The kitchen and living room are both still and silent and empty, a layer of dust lies on all the surfaces. Not even the movement of a rat or spider breaks the silence, just my footsteps echoing in the empty rooms.

I make my way upstairs, the silence and darkness are getting to me, I’m starting to wish I had just stayed at home and bought some really good ear plugs.

The bathroom is small, like mine, in fact this house is pretty much the mirror image of mine, the same lay out, just the other way round.

Only two rooms to go, one smaller bedroom, and the master bedroom.

I pause for a second, because I think I catch the sound of movement, someone stealthily moving in this pitch black house. I can feel my own heart thudding in my chest, and my breathing sounds impossibly loud.

I gently push open the smaller bedroom door, but again, everything is empty, there isn’t even a closet to hide in. Nothing but bare floor boards and dust.

I’m now almost sick from tension. Only one room left to look into, the master bedroom, the room that is exactly behind my own.

I slam the door open.

For a second I don’t really understand what I am seeing, this room is bare like all the others, but there’s something else too, something that shines when the light catches it.

I step closer. Trying to see. Trying to understand.

Then suddenly I do. Suddenly I know exactly what the noise has been this whole time.

The shining thing is a knife sticking from the wall, long and wicked looking, the wall itself has been badly damaged. Big chunks gouged out of it, stabbed out of it. That was the sound, the sound of a knife stabbing into a wall over and over and over.

My gorge rises as I realise that even though the wall between this room and my room is stone and solidly built, the impact of the knife has stripped away plaster board and dug into the stone, dug so far through in fact that the spot the knife is sticking into now has finally pierced all the way through.

I tug the knife free and kneel down, the hole is only just big enough to look through, but it’s enough to see...to see my pillow, where I lay my head every night.

Suddenly I am so sure, so very sure that something is behind me, about to grab me. I spin around but nothing is there. I can hear nothing over the sound of my panicked breathing. I trip and the knife clatters from my hand and scatters off into the darkness. I freeze for a moment, like a rabbit in the headlights. Waiting for the blow to fall on me.

But nothing happens.

And then I am free from my fear induced paralysis and I’m running and skidding, tripping and falling out of the room, down the stairs, out of the front door. Feeling like something is on my heels the whole time.

I make it to the main road. I have my phone and my wallet in my pocket. I call a cab. There is no way I am going back to my house now. I will call the police in the morning, explain everything. I’m not doing it tonight. It’s just too much. I’ll sleep at a hotel, away from the noise and the fear. I’ll feel better in the morning.

I hardly remember the journey in the taxi, or booking into the closest hotel the taxi driver knows will still let me in. I think I make up a story about a burst pipe and a flooded house. No one questions me.

And finally I am in a nice clean anonymous hotel bedroom. I feel such relief. Its quiet and warm and peaceful. I feel safe here. Normal. Back to my old self. I just need a good night’s sleep.

I strip off my clothes and fall into the bed, the energy of fear draining away suddenly and leaving me feeling groggy and relaxed.

It’s dark and warm and safe.

I breathe deeply, drifting...drifting down into the dark...

Until suddenly the silence is shattered along with any feeling of safety.

Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump.

What on earth do I do now?

Things I am happy about

3 years!

Here are some things that make me really happy

1) Tabitha is moving up to the next age room in September! shes growing so fast!
2) our house. its still wonderful to me to have our own safe space that no one can take away from us.
3) Tabitha recently declared that "I don't want to be a princess! I want to be a dinosaur!"
4) Thinking about our wedding day and honey moon, our wedding day still rates as the happiest day in my life, and our honeymoon was also amazing. remembering the things we did still brings a smile to my face.
5) when Tabitha wants to get up to get breakfast, she will lie on top of me and say "The skies awake, so I'm awake! so I have to play!" then I need to gently push her off and say "go play by yourself!" then she says "do you wanna...eat some cereal?" (this will be less adorable to people who don't know, she is literally quoting the first lines of Frozen)
6) when I ask Tabitha "are you too big?" "No!" "are you too small?" "No!". then I ask "so what are you?" and she responds "Perfect!"
7) cuddling coyote at night. he is such a perfect teddy bear.
8) the view from the bus stop after taking Tabitha to nursery, beautiful green fields with horses in them.
9) coffee out of my favorite mug.
10) going swimming with Tabitha
11) reading "where is my hat?" to Tabitha at bed time (such a great kids book, plus, I love doing the voices)
12) looking forward to going to Whitby next month! we're staying in a youth hostel and spending lots of time on the beach!
13) playing Witcher 3, one of my birthday presents.
14) listening to harry potter audio books
15) Holding Tabitha's hand.
16) Tabitha now really likes taking a book to bed and "reading" to herself to get to sleep (it isn't real reading, but making up stories to go with the pictures, or remembering the story using the pictures as ques)
17) Coyotes cooking.
18) Tabitha blowing raspberries on me.
19) looking at my now alphabetized DVD collection
20) dying my hair (I need to do it again soon)
21) how often Coyote tells me he loves me.
22) that Tabitha will tell me she loves me without prompting.
23) Tabitha makes up the most awesome little stories and tell them to me on the way to nursery, her best one was about a friendly ghost that lots of people were being mean to because they were scared of it, then a little child told them to stop because they were friends with the ghost. and they all lived happily ever after.
24) the fact that I can now actually discuss things with Tabitha and come up with rules or compromises and that this actually works and she listens to me!
25) Tabitha telling me very proudly that she is a good girl because she remembers to have kind hands, a kind mouth, listening ears and no bossy boots!