My lovelies! Head on over to The Mummy Diaries and check out our very first giveaway. Like us and follow us and we'll give you pressies!
xx
11.3.11
8.3.11
7.3.11
Handmade for Christchurch
So one of my fave Christchurch relief set-ups is Handmade for Christchurch. It's unique, it's crafty and it's just oh-so-lovely. I donated two 'essential pouches' from my up-and-coming label (watch this space.... more info to come soon!) which will be auctioned along with two synergy blends made especially by Gillian over at Le'Esscience.
Each pouch has been hand crafted and stitched by yours truly.
Put 3-4 drops of the synergy blend onto a tissue, fold and tuck into the pouch.
Be sure to check out the auction on Trade Me. And also head on over to Handmade for Christchurch to have a looksee through all their gorgeous stuff. There are plenty of things in there that I'm very tempted to bid on! x
4.3.11
FYI: It's OCD
So I have this "thing". Well, quite a lot of "things", really. I'm a tad on the OCD side. OK, quite a bit on the OCD side. It drives Nick (the most laid back of all the laid backs) close to insane. We're a good mix (most of the time) and we balance each other out. Where I'm highly strung, he's calm. Where I'm prone to worry, he's a glass-is-half-full all the time kinda guy. I'm a run around at a million miles an hour and get ten thousand things done in the space of an ad break person and he's a why don't you just sit down, put your feet up and have a beer type of dude.
I think I'm slowly getting better at relaxing and not being so anal retentive. Slowly. However, it still bugs me when the coffee table or the foosball table don't sit flush with the sofa (former) or the wall (latter). I can't handle the volume on the TV or the radio to be at an uneven number unless it's in multiples of five or ends in a three. And any even number that ends in four needs to be upped one so that it ends in five.
What else? I loathe going to bed without a shower. I just imagine yucky little daytime germs crawling all over me and through the bed. I can't handle dust. I don't like things being left on the floor (Red's things, I'm slowly learning to accept - not that I have a choice - but when Nick gets home and dumps all his crap on the floor, well, that's another story). The shower curtain needs to be pulled along to the right spot when not in use. There can't be gaps in the drapes when they're closed and when open, they have to be all the way open. Things must be in straight, neat piles. I don't like my bedside table to be cluttered. The spare bedroom door must be closed. Towels must be folded in a particular way. Things in the pantry must be correspondingly grouped neatly. God, I could go on.
I'm crazy. I know. But none of this particularly bothers me. What does bother me though is this: yes, I've learnt to chill out a bit since becoming a Mum BUT when it comes to having time out I feel like it's such a precious time that it needs to be perfect. Like right now. My Mum has taken Red away for the afternoon and there's things I want to do. I want to have a nap, I want to read my book, I want to start making some necklaces and also string the paper cranes I made for Redford's room. In order to make this all feel perfect however, there needs to be no clutter. The house must be tidy. At this very moment I can't rest while knowing that there's Duplo scattered all over the nursery (plus it needs a hoover), there's washing in the dryer to be folded and mine and Nick's room has an unmade bed and clothes on the floor. I can't see this (I'm in the lounge) but I know it's there and I keep thinking about it and I can't "relax" til it's done.
QUESTION: How the heck can I get over this?! I want to be able to sit down and have time out as soon as I'm given the chance no matter what state the house is in. I have so little time to enjoy my own company and I can't even enjoy it!
What to do? What to do? If you've got an answer, please, let me know! I don't think I could ever be one to live in a constant state of disarray but I want to, at least, be able to sit down and have a cuppa while a basket of washing to be folded and Redford's toys remain untouched on the floor.
I think I'm slowly getting better at relaxing and not being so anal retentive. Slowly. However, it still bugs me when the coffee table or the foosball table don't sit flush with the sofa (former) or the wall (latter). I can't handle the volume on the TV or the radio to be at an uneven number unless it's in multiples of five or ends in a three. And any even number that ends in four needs to be upped one so that it ends in five.
What else? I loathe going to bed without a shower. I just imagine yucky little daytime germs crawling all over me and through the bed. I can't handle dust. I don't like things being left on the floor (Red's things, I'm slowly learning to accept - not that I have a choice - but when Nick gets home and dumps all his crap on the floor, well, that's another story). The shower curtain needs to be pulled along to the right spot when not in use. There can't be gaps in the drapes when they're closed and when open, they have to be all the way open. Things must be in straight, neat piles. I don't like my bedside table to be cluttered. The spare bedroom door must be closed. Towels must be folded in a particular way. Things in the pantry must be correspondingly grouped neatly. God, I could go on.
I'm crazy. I know. But none of this particularly bothers me. What does bother me though is this: yes, I've learnt to chill out a bit since becoming a Mum BUT when it comes to having time out I feel like it's such a precious time that it needs to be perfect. Like right now. My Mum has taken Red away for the afternoon and there's things I want to do. I want to have a nap, I want to read my book, I want to start making some necklaces and also string the paper cranes I made for Redford's room. In order to make this all feel perfect however, there needs to be no clutter. The house must be tidy. At this very moment I can't rest while knowing that there's Duplo scattered all over the nursery (plus it needs a hoover), there's washing in the dryer to be folded and mine and Nick's room has an unmade bed and clothes on the floor. I can't see this (I'm in the lounge) but I know it's there and I keep thinking about it and I can't "relax" til it's done.
QUESTION: How the heck can I get over this?! I want to be able to sit down and have time out as soon as I'm given the chance no matter what state the house is in. I have so little time to enjoy my own company and I can't even enjoy it!
What to do? What to do? If you've got an answer, please, let me know! I don't think I could ever be one to live in a constant state of disarray but I want to, at least, be able to sit down and have a cuppa while a basket of washing to be folded and Redford's toys remain untouched on the floor.
1.3.11
Pockets. Pock. Ets.
Why, oh, why do babies have pockets on their pants?
So I get why their jeans have pockets because jeans have pockets. But Redford's jeans have twice as many pockets as mine do.
He has many pockets on his shorts and even some on his leggings.
In fact, he even has pockets on some of his shirts and t-shirts.
What, pray tell, will he put in his pockets? His cell phone? His car keys? His ID for when he pops down to the off-license for a 12 pack?
Is it just because pockets are cool? That baby jeans would look a bit naff without pockets? Why not use fake pockets? Like on womens jeans when they sew the pockets closed and cut them off so they don't make your hips look enormous.
I just don't get it. The only thing Redford uses his pockets for is to store food in. A bit of soggy banana sandwich here, a slice of melon there. Problem is though, he forgets he stores them there and then I find them hanging from the top of the washing machine drum or smooshed (and dried to a nice crust after being hung on the line) into the inner cup of my bra.
Pockets. Why?
And just for a slight change of subject. Here's a bit of Arj & Poopy for you. Shpants. Why put pockets on baby clothes when you could make shpants?
So I get why their jeans have pockets because jeans have pockets. But Redford's jeans have twice as many pockets as mine do.
He has many pockets on his shorts and even some on his leggings.
In fact, he even has pockets on some of his shirts and t-shirts.
What, pray tell, will he put in his pockets? His cell phone? His car keys? His ID for when he pops down to the off-license for a 12 pack?
Is it just because pockets are cool? That baby jeans would look a bit naff without pockets? Why not use fake pockets? Like on womens jeans when they sew the pockets closed and cut them off so they don't make your hips look enormous.
I just don't get it. The only thing Redford uses his pockets for is to store food in. A bit of soggy banana sandwich here, a slice of melon there. Problem is though, he forgets he stores them there and then I find them hanging from the top of the washing machine drum or smooshed (and dried to a nice crust after being hung on the line) into the inner cup of my bra.
Pockets. Why?
And just for a slight change of subject. Here's a bit of Arj & Poopy for you. Shpants. Why put pockets on baby clothes when you could make shpants?
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