Blog Archives

A mighty girl.

mighty millie
Girls can lift and girls can be strong, including Millie who goes weightlifting every week.
Tonight she came home very happy with her new deadlift personal best, 65 kg.
One very mighty girl. I’m that proud of her, I even let her pick me up (63kg).

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Yoga when you have a dog.

There’s a human on the floor! Downward dog has become down dog lick face.
How relaxing.
yoga dog

Mud, sweat and tears.

We get a lot of rain in Wales, an awful lot. In fact it’s pretty much chucked it down all January and we’re all sick of it.
My poor chickens are wading in mud again so I’ve spent today shovelling in wheel barrows full of sand to absorb it.
I also use wooden planks and plant pots to create little perches so they can preen themselves when the sun dares to show itself.
I’m hoping February will be kinder and the sun will show itself a bit more!
mud and chickens

Hair to give.

Evie has been asking me for a while now that she would like to donate her very long hair to the Little Princess Trust a charity that takes donated hair and transforms them into wigs for children undergoing cancer treatment.
On Saturday she had all her locks chopped off and has been guarding her precious plaits ready for me to post them off.

I’m very proud of her for wanting to donate her hair, it’s a lovely, kind thing to do. She’s looking very grown up with her new hair do. I thinks it looks lovely.

evie plaits

Hair-berg.

I just pulled this out of my plug hole tonight. It just kept on coming. Obviously I wasn’t going to keep this to myself so I went and traumatised the family with the pileous beastie. Much screaming ensued.
hair berg

A book, a cat and a story.

Both Millie and Evie read to themselves these days, Evie is following her sister and sneaks up to her room on a regular basis to borrow and replace her books.
I am read to by Gruff these days, I have insisted that I get to read a story too so we both benefit, (and the cat does too of course).
reading boy

Tickly.

I am not tickly

When you are eight.

You are allowed Thor’s hammer and a light saber in the same battle.
gruff is 8

Butterflies.

The sun finally dragged itself from behind the Swansea perma-cloud this weekend for a brief, glimpse of warmth before the next rainy deluge.
It was what the wildlife in our garden was waiting for. All the bugs, bees, butterflies and other pollen loving beasties made their annual pilgrimage to our flowering ivy.

Evie was the first to immerse herself in fluttering red admirals. She dipped apple slices in sugar water and stood by the ivy waiting for one of them to sample some sugary loveliness.

butterflies

Wakey wakey.

There are two mornings in the year that are terrible. They are so very terrible because there is nothing you can do to hide from the fact that there is school that day.
The first terrible morning is the morning after the summer holidays. Like a dark shadow cast over the summer that went on forever, the morning marks the death knell of a season of bare feet and adventures.
The second terrible morning is the morning after the Christmas holidays, the decorations look stale, the tree flops to one side and it isn’t even daylight yet.
That moment looms before you have to wake them up and bring in the morning. I’m a mum alarm clock. I try to be cheery but I think that makes it even worse.
I’ve tried matter of fact but that just makes me sound cold.
I’ve tried distraction, “oh look it’s sunny” but that deepens the despair.
It’s like ripping off a plaster, make it quick, make it over with as soon as possible.
Wakey

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