Words... They're golrious things

January 16, 2016

Here I am, attempting to write again. I have spent the last few months rambling, ranting, rewriting and deleting. I find myself up late at night and before I even know it with a pen in my hand, scribbling. Filling pages with colloquial renditions of my life. Finding humour in the places that no one else does, that’s how I cope when I feel like I may be on the edge of going full crazy. That is, until the morning, when the half-finished rant reads like a fifth grader was the one doing the midnight scribbling and it in no way has a chance of being finished and worthy to be shared.

So please forgive me, for what is to come is not my usual babble, nor is does it entail any humour. It is however what poured out of me in the middle of the night while I...

September 30, 2015

Before my pregnancy, I watched the mums-to-be before me take in all the advice. Some with ease. Most with frustration. Even from the outside, the advice - actually more like opinions- are difficult to filter. You know what I am talking about don't you, whatever they call it - advice, opinions, stories? When it came my time to hear them all, I promised myself to listen, but never let them consume me. I tried!

What to eat. What not to eat. What to drink. You need drugs. Drugs in labour are bad. Labour stories (horror stories). New born stories. Babes and routines. Babes and their sleep. The sleep you will never get again. Dummy and thumbs, comforters and breasts. Blah blah blah, you get my drift.

Yes, I had no idea. I was a blank canvas and I listen...

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