werk werk werk werk werk

Since popping out these babies, work wise, I've tried many different set ups. I worked part-time (out of the home), I didn't work at all, I set up a business and became a self employed WFHM (work from home Mum). Being self employed and working from home and around your kids timetable is a blessing and a curse. Actual work time is sparse when you don't earn enough to pay for childcare, and when you have no childcare you can't work or earn enough. Yay!

Believe it or not this is not a #grumblebrag post (made that up but feel like it's a winner), but a post about how sometimes the work you can manage in those tiny pockets of naps and bedtimes can make you feel like a motherfuckin superhero.

I love my job. I think about it and plan for it and look forward to it the way someone who doesn't get to do it enough should. I worry about it too; about my lack of marketing and clients and generally getting out there. I basically beat myself up about not getting enough done whilst full time parenting, even though, I'm full time parenting so DUH. There is always a little niggling fear that I'm missing my time, my place in the world to do more of what I should be doing. I'm ready for that voice to pack up and do one.

The things is (and as a Brit and a woman saying this doesn't come naturally) I think I'm really good at what I do. I deeply love photographing families. Photographing connections. It brings be peace and joy and satisfaction. I think I'm offering something a little different, something a little special. But selling that? Selling myself is not my strong point. So whilst I know I'll get there, I mean, I have to get there because we need to eat, the journey can feel rough.

...

I've been thinking a little about motivation lately, about comparison and competition and inspiration. Last year I read this piece about those things in relation to women, about how women are not encouraged to be competitive with one another and what bullshit that is.

'Why shouldn’t women be competitive? If you had told me that some magazine was eliminating the Best Dressed ranking or the Most Beautiful top 100 list, I could get with that rationale. Because encouraging competition over clothes and/or physical appearance can be problematic. But the power list is supposed to be based on achievement and accomplishment. And why shouldn’t women compete with their heads, compete by achievement and accomplishment? In taking away this list, does it mean that women aren’t capable of being competitive when the competition is about THE WORK?!? That women can’t handle the pressure AT WORK?'

I loved it at the time and was reminded of it yesterday with this follow up. I have a friend who is sooooo good at the business hustle. Extremely good at what she does. She works hard and imaginatively and it is so inspiring to me. I love when we get to talk business and geek out, and it made me realise how I need more of that. More conversation and support and motivation from women who are out there hustling. Because it's quite honestly magic to watch.

....

The last few weeks have been good work wise. Great even. I've found the two magic ingredients for a little work hustle - time and inspiration. Those two occurrences, simultaneously, are rare. Sometimes you need to write down and own the shit you have managed to do, so here is mine;

• I updated my website with images that I really love, regardless of what I think others might like
• I wrote about family photography and why I want to do it a little differently
• I shared some tips for taking your own photographs at home
• I started a google adwords campaign
• I'm actually updating my facebook business page
• hashtagging the shit out of instagram (which lead to my first insta-booking!)

There are always other things I need to do. A list that is added to with not much crossed off. I need to learn about SEO. I need to market myself. I need to get better at pushing through that uncomfortable-ness and sell myself. I'll get there.

In the meantime, the above is a pretty good start.

(and now for some random photos of my kids I took using tinfoil around the lens. obvi.)

Fantasies of a sleep deprived Mother

Things I want after being up all night with the baby:

• S L E E P

• a very posh hotel room. For one. Go big or go home, right?

• failing that, any old bed/flat surface with industrial sized duvet

• ALL THE FOOD

• no talking. No questions. No requests. 

• in fact, everyone should forget they know my name

• an IV of hot, sugar laden tea

• a nap

• sunglasses weather

• all da mini breakz

• re-runs of shitty tv, like Gossip Girl

•  sugar based snacks

• or just, sugar. Sugar me to up the eyeballs.

• another nap

• to be invisible at school drop off

• a sexy dude to play with my hair until I fall asleep. Obviously, no talking. (I'd totally be up for my husband to do this but he gets bored easily so I think he'll be ok with me outsourcing to Oscar Issac?)

• to spend recklessly online on shit I neither need nor can afford

• an excellent hiding place. With snacks

• my kids to play unattended together for at least 2 hours

• then make their own dinner

• drugs

• sleep

• questionable sartorial choices

• something deep fried

• a butler. A maid. The whole below stairs staff of Downton Abbey

• bedtime

Excellent illustration from The Mint Gardener

To my Mum on Mother's Day

So many things change once you become a Mum. Your heart swells 3 sizes, your pelvic floor needs its own exercise regime and your kitchen becomes a great place to hide whilst you pretend to cook dinner. But one of the most profound changes for me was my connection with and understanding of my own Mum.

I have obviously always loved her. Always respected her. 

Always been deeply assured in her unwavering love of me.

I wrote that line so simply, it slots in so neatly right? But the weight of the truth in that is something else. How many people can say that? Unequivocal, unconditional love like that gives you something special. It's basically a superpower. It makes you believe you can conquer the world in a quiet, unassuming and confident manner. The older I get, the more and more I realise how unusual that superpower is. I've always known she is the most wonderful person on this planet and that my saving grace in this life is that I got her as my Mum. I know it sounds like hyperbole, but if you've met her then you would smile and nod enthusiastically and maybe think I was being restrained. And yet what I knew before I had my own kids, it was the tip of the iceberg.

My Motherhood is not like hers. She didn't end up with the loving partner, or the safe home, or supportive Mother of her own to confide in. She didn't have many of the things I will never take for granted, but easily could do.

But I am essentially walking the same path she did, just with a different universe around me. I can imagine a little of what it was like for her with two small kids, because I'm doing it. Whether my day is brimming with joy or closer to walking through treacle, I think of her. She responds to the videos and mundane stories of my kids I spam via text with the same amount of excitement as if I’d sent her diamonds.

And then there are the times it’s just all too hard and I need my Mum. Now I’ve had kids, I get how hard it is. On those nights with the colic screaming and utter relentlessness of it all, she is the one I call. She is always there, using her words and experience to soothe me the same way she would stroke my hair when I was small. I feel guilt sometimes when I do this, guilt at my own privilege perhaps? At my own damn luck. Because my 'hard' is nothing in comparison to what her journey held. I'm going to be honest and say that in my darkest times, when I imagine her darkest times, it has physically hurt and overwhelmed me. Those early days of motherhood can be long and brutal, and in the wee hours of the morning your mind can take you to places you haven't prepared for. I've said this to her many times. I tell her I'm sorry because I I know this is nothing in comparison to those nights when I must have cried relentlessly and the consequences that held. She won't hear of it of course. She is always ready to comfort me, even now. Especially now. She validates me and tells me what an amazing job I'm doing and will say that yes, it was hard but don't worry! She had me and my sister and that was the purest joy she'd ever known. I sometimes don't know how she made it through. But not only did she make it through, she did it with grace. She did the unimaginable - she became strong without losing her softness.

….

The overriding memories of my childhood are *her*. Her joy. Her softness. Her love and spirit. They are like a comfort blanket around everything.

Seeing her with my babies just reiterates this all, how she delights in their presence and explores their worlds with them. No-one can talk to S like she can, she opens up his inner world with just the right questions. I hover around them when they sit together, listening intently, mentally taking notes on how to be better. How to be more like her. Her patience runs so deeply she could be Buddha incarnate. In fact, that would explain a lot.

I remember when S was around 3, and we were walking and I was pointing out small bits of life. Look, that tree! That moss! The way that stone looks like a smiley face! I felt for a second like I had become My Mum. And not in that way that freaks you out and and disorientates you for a second, but in the rarer way that gives you comfort in where you came from. Even though I can't remember an exact moment like that with her, I know there were so many that they have become a part of me. They are the fabric of who I am and how I mother. The way she pointed out all the beauty around us, even when life must have felt far from beautiful at times.

So today on Mothers Day, I wanted to shout about her a little bit. To share my love for her here. She is so fucking awesome, and everyone should know that every good thing I am, I owe it to my Mum.

I love you Mum. Thanks for the memories and the love and the gifs. Same same though, yeah?

Ps. Sorry for swearing.

A letter to my First

Feelings, by Martin Creed

Something special is happening in our home right now. After a few manic months of moving cities and saying goodbye to old jobs, celebrating birthday milestones and spending time with friends, we are here. In our new home, just the three of us. April was a month where the calender looked as if it would burst with places and people and doing. May then, is as quiet as we could make it. We're keeping plans light and filling our days with each other, knowing that at any point your baby sister could decide to join this little party of ours.

You seem eager for her arrival, talking about her and asking questions. You look up the baby development section in your picture dictionary most days and ask me "how many weeks now?" You told us that you will need to feed her every three hours, even in the night, and would have to nap in-between. You tell us that you will teach her "cheeky pants"; we can see the partner in crime you envisage in this little baby of yours. You have planned out ways to teach her all you know, crawling, walking, and not licking things are high on your agenda. My favourite was when you turned to me and said "Mummy, I will teach the baby to be happy! She might see me and make happy noises!". You have a way of melting my heart with your words. You've decided you don't want to see her be born though and told us you will you 'go on the iPad until she's been cleaned.' We chose a home birth this time around (your birth was so easy and quick that we hope she follows your lead) so we talk about every scenario of it happening. You have a lot of questions, all asked with excitement and a little bit of wonder. You want her to come soon, 9 months is too long to wait, especially when it's almost a 5th of your total time alive.

And we want her to come too, but still I'm not quite ready to let go of us being three. I spend a lot of time these days thinking over the past 4.5years, of the millions of moments we've shared, of the ever changing form of you. We talk about the night you were born, explaining what happened and how it comes to be that a baby is in there one minute and out in the world another. The vividness of the memory, you easing into our lives and bringing this magic with you. The three of us always felt so meant to be, a unit that slipped into sync like it had (mostly) always been. Which was a shock given what a surprise you were in the very first instance. We always joked that you were more like a second child, so laid back and at ease with the world. You gave us an easy ride kiddo, and as much as we would like to think that it was us and that we just had some special way, we've always known it was you. You were a knowing baby with an old soul, watching and waiting with this serious little face taking the world in. We thought you would grow up to be something serious and full of thoughts whilst your parents couldn't help but silly it up in the corner. Inevitably though, the smiles came and with it the gurgling laughter. I remember you on our bed, so very tiny, with a lopsided giggle that made us all delirious with happiness. You made us work for that laugh, and you still do - it's what makes it all the better, it's gorgeous sincerity. Now your thoughtfulness is accompanied by a lightness that took time to make itself known. The thoughtfulness is still there, along with the questions. A never ending well of how's and whys and a curiosity for the world that is deep. Life with you has been special in a way that's hard to describe. You were the easy baby, the laid back toddler, and now the sensitive, thoughtful kid. I always have a sense of guilt when describing you like this because I know this is not the norm, but I do know how lucky that makes us. You're just different. And that doesn't mean that there haven't been learning curves and challenges and days when we're all fed up of each other, but mostly it's just been really....good. You made our first go round at parenting so joyful - it's this that eventually made us want to do it all over again.

....

It hit me today how special these days are. Daddy isn't working and you have nursery only a few hours a week, so most of the time we're all just hanging out together. There's no timetable, we slowly spend our time doing what makes us happy. We chat and eat and play, and concentrate on just being. I nap a lot, and you comment on how 'that baby is making you tired!'. Lying in bed and hearing you with Daddy I get to eavesdrop into the sweetest moments. When all I can do is hear you, you sound so small. I forget sometimes, you are still so little. Your mind is so quick to race ahead - you can read and do sums and it astonishes us, and even your body which is tall and slim and shedding baby teeth makes me forget sometimes. We're talking about schools and what the years ahead will hold for you, it's hard to remember to focus on the now. I want to cling on to the littleness of you as long as I can, before it run away from me. In the bath I marvel at your skinny little arms, and once you've fallen asleep I watch you in that stalkerish way parents tend to do. The sweetness! Arms and legs flung with reassuring abandon, the softness and warmth of your face that I can't help but smoosh.

I'm so conscious that in a few weeks I won't be able to say some of the things I do now. There won't be a favourite, and I'll love you both the same, so I'm trying to ease them out of my conversations. But you will always be my little, my bundle of firsts wrapped up in our first. We won't ever have this time again - the days of three are coming softly to a close and there are tears rolling as I write this. But really, what a perfect way for it to happen. 

Thank you, my little first.