Hoarder, beach-comber or plain old womble, my child will pick up any old thing he finds on the floor and treat it like the finest jewel. He doesn’t seem to discriminate, if it’s on the floor and pocket-sized, it’s in. This is today’s haul. Two rubber bands; one brown hair band; two wrappers from sweets eaten in the car en route to pick his dad up from the hospital; a tiny red pom pom; a red piece of plastic and two pieces of yellow drinking straw. All heading for good old file 13 (the bin).
Mother’s Day, and I have managed to achieve a feat unknown in this house for I reckon several years – a bath in daylight hours. After a shaky start involving an off-colour baby vomiting on my pyjamas, I managed to convince my husband to take our son to street dance class while our baby girl went back to bed. Then, clutching my new L’Occitane Lavande bubble bath (a present from S, though by his own admission it wasn’t bought by him) I ran to the bathroom and turned on the taps before anything could stop me. Sheer, indulgent bliss. I savoured every second.
I have yet to post about my birthday, but for now here’s a photo of some presents I was given and gave to myself (I always think it’s right to buy a present for yourself on your birthday).
A beautiful silver necklace by Shona Carnegie, bought for me by my husband from Liverpool’s Bluecoat Arts Centre. And a new jumper bought for myself from Gap, because 1) it reminded me of spring and 2) it was in the sale. I love it already.
Let’s not forget the cake. Rich chocolate and covered in flakes (shop-bought, as I had no time to make my own and my Paul Hollywood was out) it was inhaled in the manner of a woman who has been on a diet for the past six months and is turning a blind birthday eye. Things taste so much better when they’re off limits.