The End

I can't believe the day is finally here but... I'm saying farewell to this blog today.
Over the last few months I have been working on a newer, brighter, cleaner, lovelier, altogether better version of Her Happy Heart, and as of today, it is my new blogging home!
The new website can be found here.
An intro post can be found here.
The new Her Happy Heart is going to be quite different to this blog for many reasons, number one being it is now collectively written by a small team!
If you have been a long-time reader here, thank you so much. I hope to see you over at the new place!

Ten Years Brave

Ten years ago yesterday, the Umbilical Brothers were in town and I got together with a group of friends to go see them. I don't remember any part of the show, but I do remember a few things about that night.
1. I was sitting behind my cousin Julie - and did not know that this would be one of the last times I would ever have a conversation with her.
2. I got to meet the Umbilical Brothers after the show. My friends disappeared momentarily and I wanted a photo with the guys, so they took it in turns taking photos of me on my little blue flip phone.
3. I got a lift home from my good friend Chris.

I was desperately, not-so-secretly in love with Chris. He parked outside my house, and we got out of the car and commenced a chin-pinch fight, as we had recently started doing at the end of many evenings. These fights involved each of us trying to gently pinch the other's chin, and they were epic, sometimes two-hour battles. I generally lost these battles; my arms weren't as big and strong as Chris's were.

On this night, ten years and one day ago now, we eventually grew tired and decided to call it a night. We hugged goodbye. And then I did the strangest thing I have ever done in my safe, meek little life. Without warning, running on adrenalin, I stood on my toes and I kissed Chris on the cheek.
"That was different," he looked surprised. But then he dipped his head and kissed me on the forehead. And that was enough bravery for me. I squeaked a feeble "Goodnight!" and ran inside.

I would spend the next 48 hours imploding and agonizing over every last detail with my best friends. I would attend a Thursday night choir rehearsal at Church where Chris happened to be doing some tech support a few rooms away, and I would become so overwhelmed that I would walk out of the choir mid-rehearsal, find Chris in the office, and beg him, "Can we please go somewhere and talk?" I would spend an hour or two sitting in Gelare across from my unrequited crush, blushing profusely, staring at the floor, at my mocha, at the window, anywhere but his face. I would hear the words, "I don't want to date anyone at the moment, but when I do, you're the one." But despite the awkwardness, and my waning bravery, I wouldn't accept that. The signs were there, we were closer than we had ever been, people already assumed that we were a couple. And I don't know how, or when, but the conversation began shifting to hypotheticals: "If we were together" "Let's say we had a fight" "What if it didn't work out" "How would we do this". And then, his eyes burning into mine, he said "You know, I actually can't think of a logical reason why we shouldn't at least try this." Not exactly romantic, but it's our story!

It's pretty awkward transitioning from close friends to something more, but we managed it. We were exchanging I-love-yous 10 days in, and a few days after our first month anniversary, we knew we were getting married, and we knew when. And here we are ten years later, thick in the life that first blossomed with that super awkward kiss on the cheek; raising a baby, renovating a home, loving each other purely and honestly, navigating the highs and lows of life as a team.

The moral of this story is not "Here's how we got together, and we lived happily ever after". This story is my defining moment of bravery. I never would have dreamed that I would be brave enough to do something as bold as kiss a boy on the cheek, no matter how much I liked him. But for one crazy moment, it felt like a risk worth taking. I knew that if I hadn't taken that chance, and he had ended up dating, even marrying another girl, I would have had to live with serious regret. And the idea of that regret scared me more than the idea of rejection.

I want to challenge you to be brave. Heck, I want to challenge me to be brave! I just bet there is something burning inside you right now, a crazy thing that you don't think you have the guts to grab onto. But you do. Brave people aren't born, they are made, one decision at a time. Just try it - do that one crazy thing. It might work, it might not, but either way you will know. Then try the next crazy thing. And the next. Keep challenging yourself, keep trying. You may not end up exactly where you hope to go - but you won't be right where you are now either.

If you want encouragement or a sounding board, validation from someone who's a bit removed from your situation - email me. I would love to be a small part of that journey with you.
flowerz _ in _ her _ hair @ hotmail (dot) com

On Tongues and Mums

Something horrific happened to me yesterday. I was eating my lunch, chatting with my Mum, and suddenly - BAM - the most intense, searing, blood curdling pain came out of nowhere. I had bitten my tongue. I'll spare you the gory details, but I'm fairly certain I bit down harder than any human has ever bitten their tongue and lived to tell the tale. With puppy dog eyes I sat back on the couch, grasping my bleeding tongue in a cool wet flannel, and in that instant I began questioning God's design. What business does a thick, soft, unpredictable piece of flesh have, nestled between 32 chomping teeth?
As you can imagine, though the initial pain dampened somewhat, I was left with a very tender tongue for the rest of the day (and, well, it's still sore today to be honest!) I don't know if you've ever been in a similar predicament, but if you have, you will know what I mean when I say that I became acutely aware of my poor sore tongue and all that it does. When you consider the function of your tongue, what comes to mind? It tastes. It help you swallow. It helps you talk. I've pretty much covered it, right?
Wrong!
It turns out that tongues involve themselves in way more than we give them credit for. I know this because my tongue screamed at me during some surprising moments yesterday.
Tongues pronounce the letters C, D, G, J, K, L, N, Q, R, S, T, U, X and Z. Tongues are the first to receive a hot cup of tea, testing that the temperature is safe for the mouth to receive. Tongues squish up under your front teeth when you blow a kiss at your baby. Tongues absent mindedly clean food out of your teeth when you chew on bread. Tongues push toothpaste and water out of your mouth after you've brushed your teeth. They do so much. Do you give your tongue credit every day for all that it does for you?

It's Mother's Day today, and for some reason I drew a correlation between our tongues and our Mums. Sure, we know that Mums feed us, clothe us, give us a safe place to come home to. But do we consider, really consider, every tiny little function of Mums? Obviously every Mum is different in the way they serve their families, so this list is by no means an attempt at covering it all, nor is it a definitive list of things that Mums should be doing. But for consideration's sake, here are some things that Mums do that their families may not always see:
- Some Mums cook everything from scratch, from stocks to sauces, cakes to salad dressings, to ensure their families are eating the safest, most nutritious ingredients
- Some Mums organize play dates and outings to ensure their children are enriched socially and engaged with their surroundings
- Some Mums spend their down-time in the evenings catching up on dishes, laundry and vacuuming to ensure their families wake up to a clean, calm home
- Some Mums visit countless doctors and undergo invasive fertility procedures in order to conceive the child they have been dreaming about
- Some Mums get up early to pack their kids' school lunches
- Some Mums will forfeit a much-needed coffee catch-up with a friend to stay home with their sick baby
- Some Mums do everything they can to get keep their kids active, to ensure they grow up fit, healthy and strong
- Some Mums sacrifice wine and soft cheeses and deli meats and sushi to ensure that the baby growing inside their belly is kept safe and sound
- Some Mums cry as they watch their children grow, moved to tears by the passing of time
- Some Mums pray every night for their children to be blessed with good health and safety and joy

When I was growing up, I didn't see all the things my Mum did. She stayed at home to raise us, she cooked dinner every night, she showered us with affection and gifts, and she and my Dad instilled in us a fervent belief that we could do anything we hoped to do. She gave us days off school to hang out at home with her in our PJs and watch movies, she took us on endless shopping trips even though she hated shopping, she left encouraging notes in our school lunches. She knew our favourite animals and the pop stars and movie stars that we were nuts about, the books we liked to read and the friends we liked to hang out with. If we showed interest in a hobby, she would buy supplies and help us learn. At the time I just didn't really consider what it was that she was doing. She wasn't just parenting, she wasn't just putting food in our bellies and clothes on our back. All of these things that she did, big and small, whether we noticed and acknowledged them or not - they were what made her our Mum. Just like the tongue with all its secret talents and uses, my Mum - and every Mum - did many things that can easily go unnoticed and unappreciated. She still does, too. It turns out that since my sisters and I have grown up and moved out of home, she's unleashed a whole new bag of Mum tricks.

I'm less than a year into my own motherhood journey and as I reflect on this new role, I can already see the little things that I do without thinking, that became second nature the moment they put a crying baby next to me on my pillow in the hospital 7.5 months ago. It might be that nobody will ever see all these things, or realize their place in my puzzle, but they're an important part of me as a mother.

So today, as we close out Mother's Day for this year, I ask you to consider your Mum, or if you're a mother yourself, dig deep, and see the little things that go unnoticed. Take a moment to pause and look at the little picture as well as the big picture. If your beautiful mother is no longer here with you, and such a reflection isn't too unbearably painful for you, it could be a lovely way to honour her and may even be a new way of remembering her.

Let's see our Mums for every little thing they have done. Let's see ourselves for every little thing we do. Let's use Mother's Day for years to come not simply as a celebration or a day of pampering, but also as a reminder to dig a little deeper, think a little harder, and feel a little more grateful.

Mums and tongues. Who knew there was a link there?

Awesome Stuff; Volume 2

1. Four words. Maple. Belgian. Waffle. Cake. Somebody please punch me in the mouth with  this!
2. The Green Herbs Linen Spray from Zara Home. This scent is everything. Can I be the person who has her life so together that she uses freaking linen spray?
3. And while we're talking about Zara Home... this blanket is my spirit animal (pictured above)
4. Absolutely any print from Lucile's Kitchen. We're renovating our kitchen right now and I just want to plaster the walls with these beauties!
5. This bread recipe. Dying to put some time aside and try it!! Also her Instagram feed is glorious. Follow her if you love peeking into beautiful lives. (Guilty!)

Becoming Mum - The Loss

I read Post Secret every week. I have since I was in my early 20s. Back then, I was dealing with a few things and I found I related to a lot of the secrets, so reading them gave me a connection to the people who sent them in. These days I don't relate to a lot of them, but I still read, intrigued by the idea that the people we know actually carry more secrets than we can ever possibly know.

Today I came across the post above, and boom, there it was - something I could relate to. Because my secret is this: Jackson was not the first baby to find a beginning in my body.

The first baby never grew beyond the size of a poppy seed, and didn't ever have a heartbeat, but despite its tiny size, the loss I felt was immense.

In October 2014, I spent two weeks wondering if I was pregnant. It was too soon to test, but all the signs were there - I was super tired, peeing all the time, roller coaster emotions - textbook pregnancy stuff. Chris was teasing me, convinced I was pregnant, and when the window in which I could pee on a stick came up, I jumped at the chance. I had taken a few pregnancy tests over the years, but this one was different. Immediately a second, albeit faint, pink line appeared. It was one of the most surreal moments of my life; my hands shook and, I'll be honest, I was terrified. Somehow I knew; something wasn't quite right. Something would happen.

The next day I took myself to the doctor who ran a blood test. I would receive the result the next day. Those 24 hours were intense - I tried to be positive, reminding myself that I often assume the worst even when things are fine, and I imagined life with a baby. I imagined telling our families at Thanksgiving, I imagined maternity leave, night feeds, tiny baby clothes. I pictured the little life that was forming inside me. It consumed me immediately. I googled everything I could find on early pregnancy. I kept returning to the bathroom just to stare at that second pink line.
But I was also aware that my symptoms had stopped quite abruptly that day. I tried to will myself to feel the fatigue I had become accustomed to, I kept checking with myself whether I needed to pee again yet. But I felt like myself again.

The next day, at the doctor surgery, I was hearing the words "I'm afraid I'm going to disappoint you."
My HCG levels (that's the pregnancy hormone) were virtually non-existent by the time I had fronted up for the blood test. It was diagnosed as a 'failed pregnancy' which had likely never even implanted, and I was told that I could expect it to pass with my next period, which would show up any time now.

It was the biggest emotional roller coaster of my life. It didn't matter that it was a very early loss - for a short time, there had been the beginnings of a baby inside me. The first human being who would be half of me, and half of Chris. I had pictured a future, a change, and suddenly that picture was gone, and instead I was facing the normal, predictable future again, which had always satisfied me but now felt empty and miserable.

It took a week for the pregnancy to pass, and in that week two different people asked me when we were planning on having kids. This has become my least favourite question now and I will no longer ask others the same thing. I struggled to come up with answers to those people, all the while thinking of the lifeless little cluster of cells inside me. When it did pass it was painful and confronting, but it was also a relief to me that it was finally over.

That was a painful time, and I can't even imagine what people go through when they lose a pregnancy at a later stage than ours was. But three months later, a new second pink line appeared and this time I looked at it and smiled. In that moment, I just felt like this time everything would be OK. And by some miracle, it was. We have a perfect, healthy little baby boy. I still think of our first pregnancy every day, but ultimately I am grateful because it was the beginning of our journey in getting the little man that we've fallen in love with.

So to the woman who posted the above secret - to every woman who has lost her own poppy seed, grain of rice, chickpea, blueberry, or more - my thoughts are this: the emptiness doesn't come from the physical size of the baby that you have lost. Because it's not just a grain of rice - it's an entire future. And the size of that is immeasurable.

Awesome Stuff; Volume 1

1. This adorbs cereal bowl cake. How is this even real!?!
2. The Duolingo app. I am totally learning Italian in just 5-10 minutes a day... and it's actually working!
3. This gorgeous print. I recently bought it for Jackson's room and the colours are INSANE,
4. Creative Unblock by The Jealous Curator. It's been on my Amazon wishlist forever. Do it, Klara. Just do it.
5. We had these nachos twice this week. The onion rings are EVERYTHING.

Every now and then I will be sharing some awesome things around the internet. Let me know if you find anything that I can add to my list!

Kat Field on Creativity

 You. Guys. I want to introduce you to someone special! Kat is a new writer for Her Happy Heart and is my first step toward having the blog become a collective of writers and contributors, rather than my own personal blog. I am beyond excited to have her on board! Kat will be bringing us all kinds of good stuff, such as reviews around Perth, money saving ideas and anecdotes about her life as an alpaca farmer (kidding - but wouldn't that be awesome?!) AND she will also be hitting us with some excellent truth bombs! She loves great coffee, she looks snazzy in a pair of spectacles, and she happens to be bringing a new human into this world in a few short months. I hope you enjoy having her on board as much as I do. Today we bring you her first post of MANY TO COME. 

I love creativity. 

Read these words carefully, because when I write that sentence, it's in the same vein of someone saying "I love love." They love the things to do with love; they love having someone to care for and to care for them, they love the romantic dinner dates and the enormous feeling that can overwhelm their being when they find the right person. But, when it comes to the crunch, you don't just love 'love'; you love a specific person, and being in love with them has incredible highs and ridiculous lows. You do the completely fantastic and the unbelievably terrible times together and that's what creates love.

Well, that's how I am with creativity. 

I love creativity. My husband is a graphic designer, my closest friends are musicians and crafters and builders. I am totally in love the idea of investing myself into one or two hobbies that I whittle away the hours doing in my spare time; then to have a final piece or product to look back on and think, "Wow! What a blast!" 

And then I sit down with everything I have prepared to start this creative venture... then casually push all of it to the side and turn on my favourite TV show. "Ugh!!!!" I always think to myself, "What a nice idea, but who has that much patience?! What if I don't like what I start, what a waste of time? Who can be bothered? I'm so tired." And so my creative intent sits in the back corner of my house with about eleven other failed creative attempts.

Anyone feel me? 

It has taken me a long time to accept that I am not a modern creative. I know that I am creative, and I know it buzzes inside of me to want to do ...something. But when I realised I wasn't a scrapbooker, or a musician, or a knitter, or a photographer, I honestly thought I had hit the world's creative limits for my life. "That's it," I remember thinking, hanging up my hypothetical apron, "I'm not the creative I thought I was."

And then one day, I feel like God spoke to me clearly about it. See, I believe in God, and I believe that he's the God that created every enormously large structure and yet every intricate detail; from the running order of the solar system, all of the way down to the DNA in my weirdly functional body. I believe he is the God of all creation, the King of all creativity. Interestingly, in Genesis it says that we are created in His image, and also references that He made us in the likeness of him. If we join those biblical truths together with who we are, we are clearly not just "in love" with creativity, but we are all made to be creative in some form, just like Him. So, with this in mind, I threw my list up to him and said (probably in a whining voice), "But God, I'm not very good at these very few things I tried doing for two minutes." Yeah. And regardless of whether or not you believe in the same big ol' creative God as me, that's when I feel he shared with me what creativity is for all of us living and breathing humans.

Creativity is something only limited by your own brain. Creativity stops where you stop, where you give up, where you let your mind stop expanding or imagining. I can take a good guess that people who built skyscrapers and pyramids and cities didn't just throw in the towel because they couldn't crochet. If we get locked into an idea of what being creative looks like, it can limit all that we are able to do.

So assuming we are all born as expansive creative beings, what does your creativity look like? I could list a hundred different creative forms but that could still limit you to my ideas of creativity, purely by what my own brain is capable of thinking. See, God may have created us all in his image but each of us is created uniquely. We work like parts of a body, with no two humans exactly the same. So what makes us think that all of our talents and sources of joy are exactly the same? 

So, open your mind and narrow your search.

One. What do you like to do? 

It can be that simple yet brilliant place to start. What do you currently spend time doing? And what do you enjoy? Look for things in your everyday life that you look forward to, that you invest yourself into. Chances are it's a breeding ground for a whole new creative form.

Two. What do you find people compliment you about?

You might find that, if you listen carefully, people are probably pointing out some creative things that you are good at and maybe don't value as highly as you should. Sometimes, it's easy to miss something fruitful to spend time on because you can be investing in the newest or the most expected. Keep your ears to the ground.

Three. What are some things you've dreamt of but have not done due to fear of time/inadequacy/comparison/not liking it long term/not having enough patience to finish the damn thing?

Well, then stop that. There is no useful advice I have here except make time, stop trying to be the best, make mistakes, be honest with yourself, and remember that the hardest, most challenging times in finding and then doing what you love will bring out the ugliest, most unrefined version of you. Learning patience, as much as it can be revealing, creates in you a new, resilient, maturing being. Find your biggest hurdle in whatever form, recognise its lie and just start! These fears can limit us our entire lives if we choose not to overcome them.

So now, decide whether or not you agree with this, and if you do, be bold. Step out and just do something. Best case scenario, you break out of your mould of what you thought creative looked like and start a fun new adventure. Worst case scenario, you get half a blanket and a big ol' bucket of character building.

The Inspire Collective

Emma Stevens, used with permission

I went somewhere wonderful last night.

I almost didn't make it. I had planned for the last couple of months to get there. Looked forward to it fervently for the last couple of weeks. Set things in place to ensure I would get there. I left home early enough that I knew I should arrive just as the doors were opening. What I didn't factor in was the insane parking situation in Northbridge. Though I arrived in the vicinity of the event with 10 minutes to spare, after driving around hopelessly (and considering turning around and going home!), parking blocks away and taking a creepy, lonesome walk in the dark with my handbag clutched tightly to my side, then walking all the way up Lake Street in the wrong direction, I ended up walking in the door 15 minutes late.

Finally, I was at the Inspire Collective event. I was greeted warmly as I walked in, my face red, my heart hammering from the stress of it all, my non-walking-shoes-clad feet sore.
"I saw you coming up the street there," the lady smiled at me, and she pointed out the bathroom, the infused bottles of water on the tables, and the line for complimentary barista-made coffees.
Everywhere I turned there were beautiful, excited, creative women. All here for the same reason I was - to connect, to be inspired. Meeting each other, dining on stunning little cakes, sipping on complimentary cups of delicious tea. Spotting my friend Kirstin across the room, I unwound, and sank into the atmosphere.

Amanda and Cate

The Inspire Collective is simply a collective of women who want to encourage, motivate, and yes, inspire other women in their creative ventures. They want to foster a mindset of support where there could have been competition, vulnerability where there could have been bravado. And they want us to be brave and confident in who we are. Call ourselves writers, if we love to write. Call ourselves artists, if we love to draw and paint. Call ourselves photographers, if we have a passion for taking photos.

 

Steph Rayner and Em Hazeldean

We heard from so many awesome guest speakers. Steph Rayner and Em Hazeldean, two amazing photographers, talked about their craft and also about how they support each other rather than view each other as competition, and how this has helped their separate ventures blossom so much more. The completely gorgeous Anoushka Marie shared her journey, and talked about how we are always capable of growth and change - not to get stuck into the idea that you are just one thing, but realize that you are still forming, and anything is possible. Elaine Fraser talked about finding you, and the feeling you experience when you, and others, actually see you. And Amanda Viviers and Cate Williams played hosts for the evening, pouring out their hearts and vision for us all in such a beautiful, honest way. I loved seeing so many beautiful hearts on display. Ugh, so inspired.

Steph Rayner's "Capture Project" display

As I met people throughout the night, a common question that we would ask each other was "What is your creative venture?" And for the first time, I didn't say "I just like writing" or "I have a blog". I said "I am a writer". It sort of felt like I was tricking them, but I think I could get used to referring to myself as a writer. I do write, after all. I write constantly. When I'm not writing here, I'm working on a novel, and another couple of bits and pieces here and there.

Elaine Fraser

I braved up and went to meet a couple of the speakers after the event, and was blown away by their loveliness. Anoushka made a point of remembering my name, and in between me gushing all over her, we talked a bit about our kids and the craziness of life. And when I introduced myself by my first name to Cate Williams, she asked "Klara Donovan?" because she had come across me on Facebook recently. That was kind of awesome, and in my mind it just further secured my connection and involvement with the Collective.

Me and Anoushka

The Inspire Collective meets on a 3-monthly basis and I am already completely pumped for the next one!

Also, I totally got a lift back to my car from my friend Grace and her husband Jonathan. No creepy late-night walks through a poorly lit Northbridge for me!

Tuesday

We're enjoying a late-Summer surprise rainy day today. I've said it before, and I'll say it again. These gloomy days are my heartbeat. I cannot wrap my head around the concept that this isn't everyone's favourite kind of day. Madness.

These are the things that I love about today:
- A morning nap, listening to the rain outside
- Freshly washed towels that make our musty old bathroom smell warm and clean
- Warming Jackson's bottles before feeding them to him
- A living room bathed in easy grey light
- Leaving Jackson in his snuggly PJs all day, instead of his usual Summer attire of a T-shirt and a cloth nappy
- Jackson's warm little breath on my neck as we cuddle
- Curry for lunch
- Wind in the trees
- Cozy cups of tea

Happy Tuesday.

The Special Things

I did something funny today.

I collect tea cups. Over the last couple of years I've slowly curated a nice little collection of them and have dedicated a whole shelf in my kitchen to them. I catch myself gazing at my teacups, stacked in pairs, no two alike, and it makes me happy. Each one was purchased because I loved it.

So why, then, when I make myself a cup of tea in the morning, do I gravitate not toward the pretty array of cups that give me great joy, but the cupboard of mugs and common-use cups we keep above the coffee machine? I use the same two, tired-looking mugs every day for a week (washed in-between of course!), even staring at my pretty collection while I wait for the kettle to boil.

Why? Because my every-day morning cup of tea isn't special. And my pretty teacups are special and therefore should only be used for special occasions. So once in a while we have friends over, and on occasion one of them might want a cup of tea. Then and only then do I pull open my cupboard of special tea cups, select one carefully, and actually use it. Meanwhile the rest of the cups just sit there, having missed their one opportunity to be used in months,

That's crazy!

Today I made myself a cup of tea in *gasp* one of my beloved tea cups. Just for the sake of it. And the sky did not fall down! In fact, it was lovely taking each sip from a cup that I completely adore.

It's not just tea cups, you know. We all have those special-occasion items. The immaculate white dinner set. The expensive purse. The gold plated cutlery. The $30 vegan soy candle that smells like lemon meringue pie. The crystal vase. These are some of our favourite things, and a lot of them are gathering dust, waiting for their bi-annual shining moment.

But maybe we're looking at it the wrong way. Maybe instead of waiting for an occasion to be deemed 'special' enough to employ our favourite things, we should be bringing them out and using them in a bid to make our everyday moments special. I'm a firm believer that our greatest joy comes from the little things, and if drinking from my favourite tea cup enriches my morning, why wouldn't I pursue that easy little buzz every single day?

So... eat your steamed peas with the glimmering golden fork you keep buried in the buffet drawer. Burn that $30 candle while you scrapbook, heck, while you binge-watch Netflix. Cut some flowers from the garden and set them in that crystal vase. And for goodness sake, make yourself that cup of tea in the prettiest damn tea cup you own.

Chaos and Small Changes

Because I’m not a great house keeper (read: basically the worst) my house is chaotic (read: like a tornado hit it. Scrach that – several tornadoes). I know everyone says they're the worst house keeper, but I actually am. I keep up with the dishes and the laundry, and that’s about it. There are pockets of trouble everywhere – corners filled with stacks of unhung photo frames and utility bills, exercise equipment gathering dust behind the gas heater, unread magazines and books piled up on top of each other, broken blinds that I need Chris to open for me if I want to experience sunshine in my cavernous living room, burnt-out light fittings that have needed replacing for months, and DO NOT GET ME STARTED ON THE MISCELLANEOUS CABLES THAT ARE EVERYWHERE. We could open a cable shop. Well, we actually couldn’t because we wouldn’t be able to tell you what all the cables belong to and what they do. I swear those things freaking breed.

A lot of the time, these trouble pockets fade into the background. They are invisible to me, quietly keeping to themselves, right up until the moment when we have guests coming over and they’re 20 minutes from arriving and I suddenly get the pressing need to attack ALL THE THINGS and try to find a place to put them. Amazingly, that never goes very well. Plus when you move the things, they unleash terrific clouds of dust and dog hair and then nobody should be entering the premises without a hazmat suit and a breathing mask.

Every now and then, I’ll be minding my own business, with no impending guests on the horizon, and something will catch my eye, and I will feel crazy. Crawling out of my skin crazy. Maybe it’s because I’m a stay-at-home Mum now and trapped inside it all more often than not, but it hurts my soul. It doesn’t matter that for a solid two weeks I have been perfectly satisfied with my not-so-beautiful mess. Suddenly the chaos of it all has hit me and I can literally feel my brain creasing under the pressure of it all.

Last week it was dirty formula bottles, and the meltdown was epic. We have a bottle sterilizer and I am pretty stellar at keeping on top of this particular chore (because #hungrybaby) – we use four bottles, I wash them, then I sterilize them. Voila, clean bottles. But something happened last week and I think there were six bottles on my bench in various stages of unclean. Logically, I could just wash them, sterilize four of them, then load the other two up in the sterilizer. But I couldn’t wrap my brain around it. I shut down. I just stared at them, my heart hammering, and thought “HOW CAN I LIVE LIKE THIS.” Of course I wasn’t just freaking out over the bottles. My eyes were fixed on them, but as I stared, every cable, every magazine, every dust bunny was popping up in my peripheral vision. I wandered around my house, avoiding the bottles, my brain exploding. I don’t think I’ve felt quite so highly strung since about a week before I found out I was pregnant with Jackson and the smell of a toasted sandwich in the office kitchen hit me so hard in the face that I cried and had to go hide in the bathroom (I wish there was more to that story to make it seem more normal but that is literally how it happened. Thanks hormones).

So it’s fair to say, the chaos got me that day. But I’m not known to be a negative person. I don’t like to dwell on difficulties. I seek out peacefulness and simple joy like they’re precious diamonds. So I didn’t just ignore the chaos and wait for it to hit me again. I also didn’t resolve to immediately fix everything because past experience has taught me that won’t work. For me, small and gradual changes are the only way that I can tackle big things. I started by setting myself two goals for this new month – I planned to make our bed every day (unheard of in my house!) and making sure the kitchen is clean and wiped down before bedtime each night. These are probably things that pretty much every adult human is already doing, but I wasn’t and I needed a very basic starting point if I was going to start feeling in control of my chaos. Now it doesn’t matter so much to me that there are piles of clothes on the bedroom floor and teetering towers of junk on the bedside tables – because our bed is cozy and inviting and peaceful. The scrapbooking supplies strewn across the dining room table, and the boxes of yet-to-be-used laminate floorboards against the meals area wall hurt a little less, because my white kitchen bench is clear and hygienic, and although we have ants they are just wandering around aimlessly now because there isn’t so much as a speck or a crumb for them to go to town on.

Like I said, they’re small changes, but they’re working for me and it’s a starting point. Next month, on top of these tasks, perhaps I will wipe down the bathroom every Sunday, or get into the habit of daily tidying. And maybe next time the chaos catches up with me, it won’t seem quite so insurmountable as it did last week.

Small changes. Easy and life changing. We all have some form of chaos, whether it’s in our homes, our workplaces, our relationships, our habits, our finances… What small changes can you make to ease your chaos?

#Ditch500 - My First Update!

Posting these photos makes me cringe (hello un-edited, un-beautiful catastrophe!) but this is what raw progress looks like baby! I dedicated the first week of the month to clearing out every cupboard and drawer in my kitchen, and putting back only what I wanted. My shelves are now spacious and oh-so-use-able.

I DITCHED 186 UNNECESSARY ITEMS.

186! (Not all of it is pictured above) I didn't anticipate unearthing quite so many things to get rid of, but that only proves how completely necessary this challenge was for me, doesn't it?

So what have I learnt so far?

Ruthlessness breeds ruthlessness
I started with my baking drawer, which I had been wanting to go through for some time and I knew would be easy for me (novelty baking pan after novelty pan!) I ditched almost half the items in that drawer! Once I cleaned the drawer and put the keepers back in, I was hooked. The drawer became so useable. It gave me the motivation I needed to make some tough decisions all the way through.

If you're ditching it, ditch it now!
Though I plowed through the culling phase in a matter of days, my 186 items ended up sitting on my dining room table for a couple of weeks after that while I tried to source boxes. And I faltered. Some of the items went back and forth a couple of times between table and cupboard ("it fits back in the cupboard after all!" is a terrible reason to keep something, FYI). I would stare at items that had been gifts, and feel sad. I would hesitate over items that were lovely and that I quite like, but have just never been used. The longer they sat, the harder it got. The moment I acquired boxes and packed them up, I haven't looked back. Out of sight, out of mind!

We seriously acquire a lot of crap
You know what I'm talking about. The gadgets. The novelty measuring spoons. Those cute retro things we find at op shops that really should have stayed in the past. The free plastic measuring jug whose measurements you can't even read. The $2 mug your Secret Santa gave you 3 years ago that's been pushed to the back of the cupboard. As of 2016, that stuff has no place in my home.

I will leave you with this quote that I recently came across, and absolutely LOVE: "The ability to simplify means to eliminate the unnecessary so that the necessary may speak" - Hans Hofmann. So much yes. That's a truth-bomb I can get behind.

Oh, and what did I do with those 186 items? About 20 items (mostly broken or unusable) went straight in the trash, which means I've effectively been storing rubbish in my cupboards for the last few years. My sister Steph, who has just moved into her own place with her boyfriend took a few things. And the rest I'm trying to get to the Waroona/Yarloop fire victims via the Australian Disaster Volunteers Register.

Have you been thinking about ditching 500? It's never too late to start!!!

Becoming Mum: Time

Have you seen the tale that occasionally makes the rounds on Facebook, called "I'm Going To Bed"? It compares the difference between a man and a woman "going to bed". The woman busies herself with an onslaught of little tasks - picking up toys, putting away dishes, locking the back door, packing lunches, folding clothes - and the man? He simply goes to bed. I'm not posting here tonight to draw a generalized comparison between the sexes, but I will say this: I am becoming that woman! 

Tonight I put Jackson down after his bottle, and thought to myself, "Right! Time to get ready for bed!"
Tonight's bed time routine included, but was not limited to: bringing in the nappies on the line, filling the water bottles, putting away Jackson's clean clothes, changing our bed sheets, cleaning out the sink, packing Chris's lunch, finding Jackson's Child Health folder (4-month shots tomorrow! Wah!), putting away the dog bowls, sticking vinyl decals on Jackson's wardrobe (I've been meaning to do it for weeks!), and now here I am sitting down to write a blog post about it all. Yep, bed is still the goal. Aaaaany minute now. But since becoming a Mum, these energetic bursts at night are how I get things done! Before Jackson, I was more like the man in the tale. After an evening of watching TV with Chris, I would yawn, call it a night, jump in the shower and snuggle up under the sheets. Usually by 9pm. It sounds nice, doesn't it? But the interesting thing is, before Jackson, before I had these designated little pockets of time in which to achieve things, I had a lot less motivation. Dishes would pile up. The sheets would stay, unchanged, on the bed for an obscenely long time. Laundry would happen in a mad panic on a Sunday afternoon when I realized that we had no clothes for the week ahead. The mess would slowly pile up around us. There was always the promise of more time in which to do those things, but instead of using that time, I just imagined that at some point I would.

I'm far from being the perfect house keeper (please do not inspect my floors. Ever.) But I am seeing improvements. I'm enjoying the productivity of it all. And although it's difficult having less time to work with, it seems to be a good thing for me. I know when I worked, if I had one easy job to do for the day, I was sluggish. Easily distracted. I could get to the end of the day and actually, that one easy job might not have been completed. But as soon as I had a lot on my plate, and a short amount of time in which to do it - I was in my element. I could get it all done with time to spare.

How about you? Do you thrive more under pressure? Do you have lots of time (and discipline!) on your side in which to get things done?

Now! I'm going to bed (for real).

We Love Today

It's a rare overcast day here in Perth, where the sun is generally on crack this time of year. I got out of bed at 5:30 this morning to feed Jackson and as I prepared his bottle I stole a glance at the backyard, and my heart leapt. These grey, dreary days are my favourite, especially in the midst of the hot Summers we must endure year after year.

We headed to May Street Larder for family brunch. Chris and I love May Street Larder. We had an amazing dinner there towards the end of my pregnancy last year, and ordered way too much food (we always do). They specialize in American soul food, which appeals to anyone but especially appeals to my American born and raised husband!

Jackson was a perfect little gentleman...

...except at this moment, when he started chewing on Daddy. It's freaking adorable when he chomps down on your hand and rubs his naked little gums all over your knuckles, but we should probably start deterring this before his teeth come in. I hear people don't like people who bite other people.

We got the beef brisket hash and the chicken waffle sandwich, bacon on the side, and swapped halfway through. So good.

But by the looks of things, Jackson enjoyed his breakfast even more than we did!

Now we've settled into a quiet day at home. Jackson is cooing in his bouncer, the living room blinds are open to show off the grey sky outside, and the creeper cat who hangs out in our front yard and watches us through the window has even stopped by for a bit of a gander!

We love today.

#Ditch500

Happy new year, you guys! Like pretty much every person on the planet, I've been spending some time lately contemplating what 2016 will look like. New years always excite me, because I'm a little bit #basic and get totally sucked into the whole fresh start thing. Every time. So yeah, I have a list of goals I would like to achieve this year. Cut down my Facebook time, read more books, write more... and without knowing exactly how achievable it is, one idea I've decided to commit to is to DITCH 500 THINGS FROM MY HOUSE. I don't feel like we're excessive people, yet our house is absolutely filled with stuff. Filled. With. Stuff. Most of this stuff is not even important to me, most of it (absolutely more than 50% of it) sits on a shelf/in a cupboard/on the floor without so much as an annual touch. A lot of it I don't even see any more; we've had it and ignored it for so long it literally fades into the background (I'm looking at you, white ornamental birdcage that I intended to store a collection of baby pine cones in but sits there holding the same two lonely baby pine cones that I found at uni that one time and no longer even fits my aesthetic but cost $20 at Thingz Home and what a waste of money to just get rid of it because maybe it will grow on me soon).

You guys. Stuff sucks. You have to clean around it, you have to move it from house to house, and I find that it actually gains sentimental value the longer you keep it around. We grow attached to things simply because they are our things. The human is an enigmatic creature.
No more. It's time to simplify. You know I'm serious because I've made it a hashtag. As of Monday I've decided to commit to the Bowl Full of Lemons 14 Week Home Organizing Challenge. My hope is that as I go through each room, I will ditch a bunch of stuff and then maybe Instagram it with my shiny new hashtag, #Ditch500. These Instagram posts will be ugly, I'm not going to lie. There's no way to pretty up a pile of junk. But with a good balance of adorable baby photos I'm sure you can forgive me.
By the end of the year, my goal is to have 500 things out of my life that I no longer need. Join me? I'll let you use my hashtag.