I first ‘met’ Sunita, writer of Lucky Things blog via Instagram last year. Details of exactly when are a little hazy in my mind, a bit like a boozy first date. Shortly after meeting (I use this term in the ‘online’ sense) Sunita invited me along to an event she was hosting in London. It was apparently going to be a small, informal and friendly, with a fabulous Weleda arm massage thrown in for good measure. I didn’t know anyone else who was going, and having been to big blog and smaller meet ups before, I was a worried about feeling a bit lost. The big events I’ve been too, I’ve found to be rather impersonal, as those who already know each other use it as a chance to catch up (quite rightly) but the problem being that they tend to stick in their set groups (what’s a group of bloggers called? A Click perhaps, with all that phone and keyboard tapping?) And a few other more low-key, supposedly super friendly and pressure free meet ups that I’ve been to, I’ve found to be exactly what they were claiming not to be. So would going to Sunitas’ event leave me feeling on the outside?
Fathers day is fast approaching and it’s not just all about mothers day anymore and making a big fuss of mums, oh no. Dad’s quite rightly deserve a day all about them with just as much fuss and maybe even a gift or two (if they’ve been good). But if your dad or partner is anything like the men I know, then they are impossible to buy birthday presents for, let alone a fathers day gift. My dad doesn’t even bother giving me any ideas anymore and my husband says helpful things like, ‘you should write down all the things I mention throughout the year’ which obviously, I never do. So with no particular gift ideas in mind, I headed into Kingston, to the Bentall centre to see what inspiration I could gather.
Well, this weather is rather lovely isn’t it. I’m literally sat here right now with the classic British ‘glow’ after a day out with the kid, aka sunburn. The heat (however long it may last) has got me thinking about my up and coming summer holiday, two lovely weeks in the South of France. This is an annual thing me and my family do and before we go, I always like to get myself a few new essential items. There’s something exciting about buying bits for your holiday, well I think so anyway, perhaps that’s because I don’t get to shop for clothes that much anymore, it makes it seem more real, and soon. And it’s always nice to have new things before the summer, even just one or two things to make you feel a little better about not having done that bikini diet that you meant to do in like, February. And yes, that is me doing jazz hands in a changing room. I’m so cool, right?
Fashion wise, I’m not the coolest kid in town. I’m also not a kid but that’s by the by. When it comes to everyday fashion for me, I live in T-shirts, and I mean I really live in them. When I worked, I wore smart/casual which was fine, but at times I had to dress in suits and I hated it, it just didn’t feel like me. I felt out of my comfort zone. So fast forward to my current role of small person owner, and jeans, T-shirts and trainers are my staple wear. That’s my uniform if you please, it’s what I feel comfortable in and given my boisterous little girl, it’s what I can race about after her in easily too.
Mothers Day is fast approaching and I’ve been thinking about the fact that as my years creep ever closer to forty (I mean, really?!) that I’m slowly but surely turning into my mother. Actually scrub that, I don’t notice it so much, it’s my husband who tells me I am. It’s inevitable really isn’t it what with the DNA and all, it’s something that can’t be helped or stopped, no matter what your relationship. I love my mum dearly, she’s done so much for me over the years, the one I look to for advice but it hasn’t always been this way. We had a rough ride when I was younger. I was a typical teenager and I caused her a lot of heartache and grief, for which I carry a lot of guilt for (it’s okay, I’ll be punished via my own daughter, karma and all that) I used to hate it when people told me I looked like my her but now I love it, I’m her daughter, that’s our eternal link and bond. Now that I have a daughter myself I understand that link that will always be there. Plus I know that I can’t fight it, it’s happening whether I like it or not. I’ve had a bit of a think and here are a few signs that I’m turning into my mother.